LIBRARY  OF  THE  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


PRINCETON.  N.  J 


PRESENTED  BY 


Dr.  Henry  E.  Hale 


BV  4501  .M572  1880 
Miller,  J.  R.  1840-1912 
Week-day  religion 


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WEEK-DAY  EELIGIOiN. 


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FEP  16  1938 


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BY  THE 

Rev.  J.  R.  Duller. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
PRESBYTERIAN  BOARD  OF  PUBLICATION, 
No.  1334  Chestnut  Street. 


COPYRIGHT,    1880,    BY 

Till-:    I  IIUSTKES  OF  THE 

PKESHYTERTAN    HoAPvD  OK  PUBLICATION 


Wkstcott  Sc  Thomson, 
Stereotypers  inul  Elcctrotypers,  Philuda. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

T. — What  is  your  Life? 7 

II. — Getting  Help  from  the  Bible 17 

III. — Practical  Consecration 27 

IV. — Help  for  Worried  Week-Da ys 35 

V. — The  Cure  for  Care 46 

VI. — Glimpses  at  Life's  Windows 54 

VII. — The  Marriage  Altar,  and  After 66 

VIII. — Religion  in  the   Home 77 

IX. — The  Ministry  of  Sorrow 87 

X. — As  Unto  the  Lord 98 

XL — Humility  and  Responsibility 107 

XII. — Not  to  be  Ministered  LTnto 117 

XIII. — Weariness  in  Well-Doing 125 

XIV. — Wayside  Ministries 135 

XV. — The  Beauty  of  Quiet  Lives 144 

3 


i  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

XVT. — Kindness  that  Comes  too  Late 154 

XVII. — The  Duty  of  Encouragement 163 

XVIIL— On  Loving  Others 173 

XIX. — Thoughtfulness  and  Tact 183 

XX. — Mutual  Forbearance 193 

XXL— Manly  Men 203 

XXIL— Books  and  Reading 214 

XXIII.— Personal  Beauty 224 

XXIV.— Taking  Cheerful  Views 234 

XXV. — Something  about  Amusements 245 

XX VL — On  the  Choice  of  Friends 258 

XXVII. — The  Ethics  of  Home  Decoration 2G5 

XXVIII. — Pictures  in  the  Heart 275 

XXIX.— Losses 282 

XXX. — The  Service  of  Consecration 290 

XXXI. — Beautiful  Old  Age 300 

XXXn. — Unconscious  Farewells 308 


DEDICATORY. 


It  may  be  that  this  little  book  will  be  accepted 
of  the  Master  and  sent  by  him  on  a  mission  of 
helpfulness  to  some  struggling  lives.  It  is  now 
laid  humbly  at  his  feet  with  this  simple  hope. 
Its  aim  is  to  help  young  Christians  especially  to 
take  the  religion  of  Christ  out  of  closet  and  sanc- 
tuary and  creed,  and  get  it  into  their  daily  lives 
of  toil,  temptation  and  care.  Perhaps  none  of  us 
get  the  best  that  we  might  get  from  our  relation 
to  Christ.  Few  of  us,  if  any,  live  as  well  as  we 
believe.  The  moralities  that  we  know,  we  do  not 
follow.  The  helps  that  are  put  into  our  hands 
we  do  not  use  when  we  are  climbing  the  stiff, 
steep  paths  or  staggering  under  the  burdens  of 
life.  The  comforts  that  religion  gives  do  not  com- 
fort us  in  sorrow.  Many  of  us  think  of  Chris- 
tianity as  a  system  of  doctrine  and  worship  only, 
and  too  little  as  a  life.  The  aim  of  this  book  is 
to   show    how    doctrine   should    become    life,    how 


6  DEDICATORY. 

promises  should  be  rod  and  staff  In  tlie  climber's 
hand,  and  how  the  Sabbath-life  should  pour  itself 
through  all  the  week-days,  making  every  hour 
bright  with  the  radiance  of  heaven.  It  is  dedi- 
cated  to  those  who  sincerely  want  to  follow  all 
the  precepts  and  to  realize  in  their  own  expe- 
rience all  the  joys,  inspirations  and  comforts  of 
religion,  and  to  fulfill  in  this  world  the  meaning 
of  life  in  all  its  splendor  and  possibility. 


Week-Day  Religion. 


W 


I. 

WHAT  IS  YOUR  LIFE? 

"A  sacred  burden  is  the  life  ye  bear. 
Look  on  it,  lift  it,  bear  it  solemnly; 
Stand  up  and  walk  beneath  it  steadfastly ; 
Fail  not  for  sorrow,  falter  not  for  sin. 
But  onward,  upward,  till  the  goal  ye  win." 

T^HAT  one  thinks  about  life,  what  conception 
he  has  of  that  strange  thing  called  exist- 
ence— particularly  what  he  thinks  of  his  own  indi- 
vidual life — is  a  most  vital  matter.  Life  is  noble 
or  ignoble,  glorious  or  groveling,  just  as  a  right 
or  wrong,  a  high  or  a  low,  conception  is  cherished 
in  the  heart.  No  man  builds  higher  or  better  than 
his  plans.  Xo  artist  surpasses  in  mai'l)le  or  on 
canvas  the  beautv  iniaired  in  his  soul,  and  no 
one's  life  can  rise  in  grandeur  above  the  thoughts 
of  life  which  live  in  his  heart. 

No  conception   is  true  or  worthy  which  does  not 


8  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

consider  life  iu  its  perspective,  not  as  cut  off  and 
limited  by  the  bounds  of  earthly  existence^  but 
as  stretching  away  into  immortality  and  vital  at 
every  point  with  important  relations  and  solemn 
responsibilities.  We  are  more  than  animals.  Our 
lives  are  not  little  separate  atoms  of  existence  each 
one  complete  in  itself  and  independent  of  all  other 
atoms.  He  plans  very  shortsightedly  who  has  no 
outlook  from  his  hut  in  his  narrow  island-home 
in  the  great  wide  sea,  and  who  sees  no  existence 
for  himself  beyond  the  stoppage  of  his  hearths 
pulses — that  strange  experience  which  men  call 
death. 

We  can  only  learn  to  live  worthily  Avhcn  we 
take  into  our  view  and  plan  all  the  unending  years 
that  lie  beyond  the  grave.  AYe  want  a  vivid  and 
masterful  consciousness  of  our  personal  immortality. 
A  man  who  sees  but  a  few  bits  of  rock  chipped 
from  El  Capitan,  and  a  few  dried  leaves  and  faded 
flowers  plucked  from  the  trees  that  grow  in  that 
wondrous  valley,  has  no  true  conception  of  the 
grandeur  of  the  Yosemite;  and  no  more  just  con- 
ception of  human  existence  in  its  fullness  and  vast- 
ness  has  he  who  sees  only  the  little  fragment  of 
broken,  marred  and  shattered  years  which  are  ful- 
filled  on   this  earth.     We  must  try  to  see  life  as 


WHAT  IS  YOUB  LIFE?  9 

sweeping  away  into  eternity  if  we  w^oulcl  grasp 
its  meaning  and  have  a  true  sense  of  its  grandeur 
or  realize  its  solemn  responsibility. 

There  are  streams  among  the  mountains  w^hich, 
after  flowing  a  little  way  on  the  surface  in  a  cur- 
rent broken,  vexed  and  tossing,  amid  rocks,  over 
cascades,  through  dark  chasms,  sink  away  out  of 
sight  and  seem  to  be  lost.  You  see  their  flash- 
ing crystal  no  more.  But  far  down  the  mountain, 
amid  the  sweet  valley  scenes,  they  emerge  again, 
these  same  streams,  and  flow  awav,  no  lono-er 
tossed  and  restless,  but  quiet  and  peaceful  as  they 
move  on  tow^ard  the  sea.  So  our  restless,  perplexed 
lives  roll  in  rocky  channels  a  little  way  on  the 
earth  and  then  pass  out  of  sight  and  it  seems  the 
end.  But  it  is  not  the  end.  Leaping  through  the 
dark  cavern  of  the  grave,  they  will  reappear,  fuller, 
deeper,  grander,  on  the  other  side,  vexed  and  broken 
no  longer,  but  realizing  all  the  peace,  joy  and  beauty 
of  Christ;  and  thus  they  will  flow  on  for  ever. 
This  is  no  poet's  fancy,  no  Utopian  dream  of  a 
golden  age,  no  mere  picture  of  imagination.  Life 
and  immortality  are  brought  to  light  in  the  gospel. 
Since  Christ  has  risen  again  death  is  abolished,  and 
to  every  one  who  believes  in  him  there  is  the  cer- 
tainty of  an  endless  life  of  blessedness  in  his  pres- 


10  WKEK-DA  Y  RELIGION. 

encc  and  service.  AVe  only  begin  to  live  when  the 
consciousness  of  immortality  breaks  upon  our  liearts. 

Then  there  is  another  element  in  every  true  con- 
ception  of  life  which  is  equally  essential.  No  life 
hangs  in  mid-air,  without  relations,  connections  or 
attachments,  without  dependences  and  responsibil- 
ities. A  man  may  not  tear  himself  out  of  tlie 
web  of  humanity  and  pass  all  his  years  on  some 
solitary  island  in  the  sea,  cutting  every  tie,  casting 
off  all  responsibility,  living  without  reference  to 
God  or  man,  law  or  duty,  and  fulfill  in  any  sense 
the  true  meaning  of  life. 

In  every  direction  there  are  cords  of  attachment 
which  reach  out  and  bind  every  fragment  of  human- 
ity fast  in  one  great  web ;  and  these  attachments 
are  inextricable.  AVe  may  ignore  them,  but  we 
cannot  break  one  of  them.  AYe  may  be  disloyal 
to  every  one  of  them,  but  we  cannot  cut  one  thread 
of  obligation. 

A  little  reflection  will  show  us  what  these  con- 
nections are.  Whence  are  we?  AVhat  is  the  origin 
of  this  life  we  bear  about  with  us?  What  are  our 
relations  to  God  the  Creator?  Our  life  sjirang 
from  his  hand.  Not  only  so,  but  it  is  dependent 
upon  him.  No  more  does  the  trembling  leaf  hang 
upon  the   bough  and  depend  upon   it   for  support 


WHAT  IS  YOUR  LIFE?  11 

and  very  life  than  does  every  human  life  hang 
upon  God,  depending  upon  him  for  stay  and  sup- 
port and  for  its  momentary  existence. 

Then,  as  we  think  of  ourselves  as  Christians, 
this  thought  is  infinitely  deepened.  What  is  a 
Christian  life?  We  are  accustomed  to  say  that  it 
is  a'  life  redeemed  by  Christ's  death.  More  closely 
defined,  it  is  a  life  that  is  taken  up  out  of  the  ruin 
of  sin  and  attached  to  the  life  of  Christ.  Apart 
from  him  men  are  but  dead  and  withering  branches 
having  no  life,  but  when  attached  to  him  they 
become  living  branches  covered  with  leaves  and 
fruit.  As  we  think  of  it  we  see  Christ  as  the 
one  great  central  Life  of  the  world  and  ourselves 
living  only  in  him,  our  little  fragment  of  being 
utterly  dependent  upon  him  for  every  beauty,  bless- 
ing and  hope.  We  live  only  in  him.  He  takes 
our  sins  and  gives  us  his  righteousness.  He  takes 
our  weakness  and  unites  it,  like  a  branch  grafted 
upon  a  tree,  to  his  own  glorious  fullness  of  strength. 
Our  emptiness  he  attaches  to  his  divine  complete- 
ness. Our  lives  feed  upon  him,  and  are  in  every 
sense  dependent  upon  him.  We  have  nothing  and 
AVe  are  nothing  which  we  do  not  receive  from  him. 

Out  of  this  relation  come  the  most  bindins:  and 
farreachini);    obliterations    to    God — obliuations    of 


12  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

grali tilde,  praise,  trust,  obedience,  service.  Our 
life  is  not  in  any  sense  our  own.  Its  purpose  is 
not  fulfilled  unless  it  is  lived  to  accomplish  the 
end  for  which  it  was  created  and  redeemed.  We 
begin  to  study  the  Scriptures  and  to  ask  what  is 
tlie  chief  end  of  life,  and  we  have  not  to  read  be- 
tween the  lines  to  find  the  answer.  Everything 
has  been  made  with  some  design.  Even  a  grain 
of  sand  has  its  uses.  It  helps  build  up  the  moun- 
tain, or  it  forms  part  of  the  great  wall  that  holds 
the  sea  in  its  place,  or  it  helps  by  its  infinitesimal 
weight  to  balance  the  system  of  worlds.  A  drop 
of  water  has  its  purposes  and  uses.  Creeping  into 
the  bosom  of  tlie  drooping  flower  or  sinking  down 
to  its  roots,  it  revives  it.  It  may  help  to  quench 
the  thirst  of  a  dying  soldier.  It  may  paint  a  rain- 
bow on  the  clouds.  It  may  lielp  to  float  great 
ships  or  add  its  little  plash  to  the  chorus  of  ocean^s 
majestic  music. 

"Each  drop  unconiited  in  a  storm  of  rain 
llath  its  own  mission ; 
Tlie  very  shadow  of  an  insect's  wing — 

For  which  the  violet  cared  not  while  it  stayed, 
Yet  felt  the  lighter  for  it  vanishing— 

Proves  that  the  sun  was  shining  by  its  shade." 


A.ik1  if  such  minute  things  have  their  purpose,  how 


WHAT  IS  YOUR  LIFEf  13 

grand  must  be  the  end  for  which  each  human  life 
was  made ! 

We  think  further,  and  we  find  a  wondrous  net- 
work of  attachments  bindino;  our  little  frag-ments 
of  being  to  the  great  web  of  life  around  us.  There 
are  a  thousand  relationships  which  link  us  to  our 
fellow-men,  to  home,  to  church,  to  country,  to  so- 
ciety, to  truth,  to  humanity,  to  duty;  and  every 
one  of  these  connections  implies  responsibility. 
Obligations  touch  our  lives  on  all  sides.  Duties 
come  to  us  from  every  point.  Ev^ery  human  rela- 
tionship is  solemn  with  its  weight  of  responsibility. 

We  think  again,  and  we  find  that  we  are  in  a 
world  in  winch  our  minutest  acts  start  results  that 
go  on  for  ever.  The  little  ripple  caused  by  the 
plash  of  the  boy's  oar  in  the  quiet  bay  goes  roll- 
ing on  and  on  until  it  breaks  on  every  distant  shore 
of  the  ocean;  the  word  spoken  in  the  air  causes 
reverberations  which  go  quivering  on  for  ever  in 
space ;  and  these  scientific  facts  are  but  feeble  illus- 
trations of  the  influences  of  human  actions  and 
words  in  this  world. 


"Our  many  deeds,  the  thoughts  that  we  have  thought, 
They  go  out  from  us,  thronging  every  hour, 
And  in  them  all  is  folded  up  a  power 

That  on  the  earth  doth  move  them  to  and  fro; 


14  WEEK-BAY  llELWION. 

And  mighty  are  (he  marvels  tliey  have  wrought 
In  liearts  we  know  not,  and  may  never  know." 

This  fact  charges  every  moment  with  most  in- 
tense interest.  The  very  air  abont  us  is  vital, 
and  carries  the  secret  pulsations  and  the  most  un- 
conscious influences  of  our  lives  far  abroad ;  and 
not  only  so,  but  these  influences  sweep  away  into 
eternity.  There  is  not  a  moment  of  our  life  which 
does  not  exert  a  power  that  shall  be  felt  millions 
of  ages  hence.  There  is  something  about  the 
vitality  and  the  immortality  of  human  influence 
that  is  fearful  to  contemplate  and  that  makes  it  a 
grandly  solemn  thing  to  live,  especially  when  we 
remember  that  these  qualities  belong  to  the  evil  as 
well  as  the  good  of  our  lives. 

"  Tlie  deeds  we  do,  the  words  we  say, 
Into  thin  air  they  seem  to  fleet; 
We  count  them  ever  past. 
But  they  shall  last : 
In  the  dread  judgment  they 
And  we  shall  meet." 

We  think  once  more,  and  we  find  that  life  has 
another  attachment — forward  to  the  bar  of  God. 
We  must  render  account  for  all  the  deeds  done 
in  the  body.  We  read  more  deeply  into  the  divine 
revelation,  and  learn  that  this  accountability  extends 
to  all  the  minutest  acts    and   words  and  thoughts 


WHAT  IS   YOUR  LIFE?  15 

that  drop  from  hand  and  lip  and  heart  as  we  move 
along.  It  even  reaches  to  the  unconscious  influ- 
ences that  breathe  out  from  us  like  the  frai>:rance 
of  a  flower.  We  must  meet  our  whole  life  again 
before  God's  throne,  and  give  account  not  only  for 
what  we  have  done,  evil  and  good,  but  also  for 
all  that  we  ought  to  have  done — for  the  unde- 
veloped possibilities  of  our  lives  and  their  unim- 
proved opportunities. 

It  is  in  the  lioht  of  such  facts  as  these  that  we 
must  regard  the  life  that  is  given  to  each  of  us. 
It  is  indeed  a  sacred  burden.  It  is  no  WAxi  and 
easy  thing  so  to  live  as  to  fill  ill  1  the  end  for  which 
we  were  made  and  redeemed.  Life  is  no  mere 
play.  Every  moment  of  it  is  intensely  real  and 
charged  with  eternal  responsibility.  It  is  when 
we  look  at  life  in  tiiis  way  that  we  see  our  need 
of  Christ.  Apart  from  him  there  can  be  only  fail- 
ure and  ruin.  But  if  we  give  ourselves  to  him,  he 
takes  up  our  poor  perishing  fragment  of  being, 
cleanses  it,  puts  his  own  life  into  it,  and  nurtures 
it  for  a  glorious  immortality. 

Under  a  plain  marble  monument  sleeps  the  dust 
of  one  of   God's  dearest  children,"^    who  o-ave  her 

*  Mary  Lyon,  founder  of  .Mount  Holyoke  Seminary.     She 
used  to  give  to  the  girls  in  her  graduating  olnsss  tin's  nu)Uo 


IC  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

life  to  Ills  cause  in  unwearying  service  till  its  last 
power  was  exhausted.  Cut  in  the  stone  that  marks 
her  last  resting-place  is  tliis  memorable  sentence 
from  her  o^vn  lips,  wliich  tells  the  secret  of  her 
consecration:  "There  is  nothing  in  the  universe 
that  I  fear  except  tliat  I  may  not  know  all  my 
duty,  or  may  fail  to  do  it."  With  such  a  sense 
of  personal  responsibility  pressing  upon  the  heart 
at  every  moment,  life  cannot  fail  to  be  beautiful 
and  well  rounded  here,  and  to  pass  to  a  corona- 
tion of  glory  hereafter. 

also:  "My  dear  girls,  when  yon  choose  your  fields  of  labor,  go 
where  nobody  else  is  willing  to  go." 


II. 

GETTING  HELP  FROM  THE  BIBLE. 

i^FTENTIMES  young  Christians  say,  "I  can- 
^-^  not  find  the  beautiful  things  in  the  Bible,  nor 
can  I  acquire  a  taste  or  relish  for  it.  I  want  to 
love  it  and  to  use  it  so  as  to  receive  help  from  it, 
but  it  does  not  open  its  riches  to  me.  I  appreciate 
the  wealth  and  beauties  which  otiiers  find  in  it  and 
point  out  to  me,  but  when  I  look  for  them  they  do 
not  discover  themselves  to  me.  After  I  have  read 
a  chapter  and  found  nothing  beautiful  or  helpful, 
another  will  read  it  and  point  out  the  sweetest  bits 
of  beauty  and  the  rarest  words  and  suggestions  of 
comfort  and  helpfulness,  not  one  of  which  I  had 
seen.  They  seem  to  have  hidden  from  me,  like 
coy  birds  amid  the  branches,  but  ^vhen  another 
came  they  flew  out,  and  in  their  sliining  plumage 
sat  on  the  boughs  or  perched  on  his  shoulder  and 
sang  snatches  of  heavenly  song.  I  read  the  book, 
but  I  confess  that  it  yields  me  no  honey,  no  food, 
no  wine  of  life." 

2  17 


18  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

It  is  qiiitc  possible  tluit  this  experience  is  more 
common  thiui  we  think  or  than  manv  are  honest 
enongh  to  confess.  There  are  few,  if  any,  who 
find  in  tlie  Bible  all  the  beauty  and  blessing  that 
lie  in  its  pages.  Not  one  of  ns  gets  from  it  the 
utmost  possible  of  hcl]).  and  no  doubt  most  of 
us  in  our  reading  pass  by  many  rare  and  precious 
things  which  we  fail  to  see  at  all. 

Yet  it  surely  need  not  be  a  sealed  book  to  any 
one.  It  does  not  aim  to  hide  its  good  things  away 
so  that  men  cannot  easily  find  them.  It  is  not  in- 
tended to  be  a  book  that  great  scholars  only  can 
understand.  No  doubt  a  knowlcdo-e  of  the  Ian- 
guages  in  wliich  the  Bible  was  originally  written 
ex})lains  many  an  obscure  passage  and  resolves 
many  a  difficulty,  yet  it  is  not  a  book  for  the 
learned  alone,  but  for  the  unlettered  and  the  little 
children  as  well.  In  proof  of  this  we  have  only 
to  remember  that  oftentimes  those  who  find  the 
richest  treasures  and  the  sweetest  joys  in  the  Scrip- 
tures are  not  the  greatest  scholars  and  the  grandest 
intellects,  but  God's  little  ones,  strangers  to  the 
world's  lore  and  ignorant  of  its  wisdom. 

Very  much  depends  upon  the  spirit  with  which 
we  come  to  the  Bible.  In  the  minds  of  many 
Protestants    there  is  almost  as   much    superstition 


GETTING  HELP  FROM  THE  BIBLE.         19 

regarding  this  sacred  book  as  there  is  among  Ro- 
manists regarding  the  crucifix  or  rosary.  Soldiers 
entering  a  battle  fling  away  their  cards  and  put 
Bibles  in  their  pockets.  They  feel  that  they  are 
safer  then.  Many  think  if  they  read  a  certain 
portion  every  day,  though  they  give  no  thought 
to  the  meaning,  that  they  have  done  a  holy  service 
and  are  safe  for  the  day.  But  the  mere  reading 
of  so  many  chapters  does  no  one  any  good.  It 
would  be  as  well  to  say  Latin  prayers  and  fumble 
over  a  string  of  beads  for  ten  minutes.  To  receive 
blessing  from  the  Bible  it  must  be  read  thought- 
fully with  inquiry  and  meditation.  It  must  be 
allowed  to  read  itself  into  our  heart  and  life. 

As  to  the  method  of  readino;,  several  suir&'estions 
may  be  made.  It  is  important  to  have  a  good  copy 
of  the  Bible,  well  bound,  with  clear,  plain  type 
and  with  references.  On  many  passages  there  is 
no  commentary  so  helpful  as  the  reading  of  the 
references.  Scripture  interprets  Scripture.  Hence, 
a  copy  without  references  is  shorn  of  much  of  its 
value.  We  want  a  copy,  too,  that  will  last  for 
many  years.  A  book  is  like  a  friend ;  it  grows 
familiar  and  confidential  with  use.  At  first  shy 
and  distant,  it  lets  us  into  its  heart  after  we  have 
long  pored  over  its  pages.     It  opens  of  itself  to 


30  WEEK-DA  y  llELIGION. 

the  choicest  chu[)ters,  autl  it  seems  to  carry  its 
sweetest  secrets  on  the  surface  for  us.  A  Bible 
tliat  we  have  long  used  seems  to  say  things  to  us  we 
never  hear  from  a  strange  or  new  book.  Besides, 
it  is  good  to  mark  our  Bible  as  we  read  it.  Any 
})recious  passage  that  we  find  may  be  indicated  on 
the  margin  by  some  sign  or  by  drawing  a  line  about 
it  or  under  the  sacred  words.  Thus  we  write  our 
own  spiritual  history  on  the  j)ages  of  our  Bible. 
These  marks  are  memorials,  also,  showing  where 
we  once  found  bk^ssing — stones  set  up  to  mark  our 
Bethels  and  Peniels  and  Ebenezers.  A  book  thus 
read,  and  holding  on  its  pages  such  treasures,  be- 
comes in  a  few  years  inestimably  sacred  and  pre- 
cious. Hence  the  importance  of  having  at  almost 
any  cost  the  v^ery  best  copy  of  the  Bible  that  can 
be  obtained — one  that  can  be  used  for  a  lifetime. 
No  one  can  afford  to  dispense  with  the  old-fash- 
ioned way  of  reading  the  Bible  through  consecu- 
tively. It  is  well  to  do  this  every  year.  Some 
open  at  random  and  read  whatever  comes  under 
their  eye,  without  method  or  plan.  Others  read 
over  and  over  a  few  favorite  passages.  In  both 
cases  large  portions  remain  neglected  and  are  never 
read  at  all.  Heading  the  whole  volume  in  course, 
in  regular  daily  portions,  we  become  familiar  with 


GETTING  HELP  FROM  THE  BIBLE.         21 

every  part,  and  discover  the  very  richest  things  in 
places  where  we  least  expected  to  find  any  beauty 
or  blessing.      - 

But  in  addition  to  this  it  is  w^ell  to  pursue  other 
special  methods.  Topical  reading  is  excellent. 
We  select  a  subject  and  by  the  aid  of  concordance, 
reference  and  text-book  find  out  all  the  passages 
in  the  whole  Scripture  w^iich  speak  of  it  or  throw 
any  light  upon  it.  Thus  we  learn  what  are  the 
doctrines  of  the  Bible.  In  this  way  we  may  bring 
all  the  teachings  of  men  to  the  bar  of  God's  truth; 
w'e  may  verify  the  doctrines  of  the  Church ;  w^e 
may  refer  all  questions  that  arise  in  our  own  minds 
as  to  belief  or  as  to  duty  to  the  infallible  test;  and 
thus  we  shall  build  our  personal  creeds,  not  on  the 
formulated  statements  of  theologians,  but  on  the 
simple  words  of  inspiration. 

In  the  daily  life  of  each  one  there  arise  pecu- 
liar questions  and  experiences  on  which  we  want 
light  or  in  which  we  need  counsel  and  guidance. 
These  should  be  taken  at  once  to  the  divine  word. 
Thus  we  bring  the  book  of  life  into  our  daily 
history.  AVe  make  it  our  counselor,  our  lamp, 
our  guide.  This  leads  to  another  method  of 
reading  and  study  which  is  very  profitable  and 
which  yields  great  help. 


22  WEEK-DA  Y  RELIGION. 

The  luibit  of  liaving  a  verse  for  the  day  has 
also  been  adopted  hy  inniiy  and  has  been  a  source 
of  great  comfort.  Eitlier  out  oj^  the  morning's 
chapter  or  selected  in  some  other  way,  let  one 
verse  be  taken,  fixed  in  the  mind,  and  carried  all 
through  the  busy  day  in  thought  and  meditation. 
It  will  often  prove  a  fountain  of  water,  a  bright 
lamp  or  a  rod  and  staff  before  the  day  comes  to 
a  close.  It  is  impossible  to  estimate  the  influence 
of  a  simple  passage  thus  held  all  day  in  the 
thoughts.  It  keeps  us  from  sin.  It  is  a  living 
impulse  to  duty.  It  is  an  angel  of  comfort  in 
sorrow.  Then  its  influence,  as  it  pours  its  soft, 
pure  light  all  through  the  life  hour  after  hour, 
is  full  of  inspiration,  and  purifies,  cleauses  and 
sanctifies. 

So  much  for  methods.  Still  more  important  is 
the  spirit  in  which  we  read.  AVe  must  come 
to  it  as  to  the  oracles  of  God,  infallible  and 
authoritative.  AVe  must  hear  the  voice  of  God 
in  its  words.  Then  we  must  come  in  the  spirit 
of  docility,  ready  to  be  taught.  Some  read  it,  not 
to  learn  what  they  ought  to  believe,  but  to  find 
in  it  what  they  themselves  do  believe  already,  to 
have  their  opinions  confirmed  or  their  conduct 
justified.      Only  those    who   come  as   little   chil- 


GETTING  HELP  FROM  THE  BIBLE.         23 

dren,  with  teachable,  spirits,  to  hear  what  God 
will  say,  and  ready  to  accept  it  however  it  may 
clash  with  their  own  opinions  and  preferences, 
can  find  the  Bible  an  open  book  disclosing  to 
them  its  most  pre(dous  things. 

It  must  also  be  read  thoughtfully,  slowly  and 
patiently.  Many  of  its  richest  gems  lie  deep  and 
must  be  digged  for.  It  is  not  so  much  a  flower- 
garden  as  a  mine.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  hur- 
ried, superficial  reading  which  skims  over  the  sur- 
face, which  pauses  to  weigh  no  word,  take  in  no 
thought,  apply  no  lesson,  and  which  leaves  no  im- 
pression, not  even  a  memory,  behind.  Such  read- 
ers must  use  a  marker,  or  they  will  read  the  same 
chapter  over  and  over  without  knowing  it. 

Then  it  is  necessary  to  read  the  Bible  not  alone 
to  know  the  will  of  God,  but  that  we  may  do  it. 
If  it  is  not  the  guide  of  our  life,  it  is  nothing  to 
us.  Its  truths  are  to  be  applied.  If  we  read 
the  beatitudes,  we  are  to  compare  ourselves  with 
their  divine  requirements  and  seek  to  be  con- 
formed to  them.  If  we  come  upon  a  word 
that  rebukes  any  habit  or  spirit  of  ours,  we  are 
straightway  to  make  the  needed  amendment.  We 
are  to  accept  its  promises,  believe  them,  and  act  as 
believing  them.     We  are  to  allow  its  comforts  to 


24  WEEK-DA  V  RELiafON. 

enter  our  lioart.s  and  su})port  ns  in  sorrow.  Tliore 
is  nothing  written  in  the  Bible  merely  for  orna- 
ment or  beanty.  Every  word  is  practical.  There 
is  no  truth  in  it  that  has  not  some  bearins;  uj)on 
actual  living.  When  we  come  to  it  eager  to  know 
how  to  live  and  ready  to  obey  its  precepts,  we 
shall  find  it  opening  to  us  its  inmost  meaning. 

We  are  told  that  the  Bible  must  be  spiritually 
discerned.  Only  a  si>iritual]y-minded  reader  finds 
the  truest  and  best  thiuij-s  in  it.  We  must  brinir 
to  it  a  certain  kind  of  knowledge.  This  is  true 
in  all  departments  of  life.  Many  persons  never 
see  anything  lovely  in  nature.  They  will  stand 
amid  the  most  picturesque  landscapes,  walk  amid 
the  rarest  flowers  and  witness  the  most  gorgeous 
sunset  splendor  without  a  thrill  of  pleasure  or  an 
expression  of  admiration.  They  have  no  sympa- 
thy with  na'iire.  There  are  many  who  will  pass 
through  a  grand  art-gallery  rich  with  paintings 
and  statuarv,  and  see  nothino^  to  seize  their  atten- 
tion,  while  others  will  spend  days  in  enthusiastic 
study  of  the  works  of  art  that  are  stored  there. 
Some  knowledge  of  art  and  an  interest  in  it  are 
necessary  to  the  appreciation  and  enjoyment  of 
paintings  and  statues.  In  like  manner,  he  that 
would   find  the  beautiful  things  in  the  Scriptures 


GETTING  HELP  FROM  THE  BIBLE.         25 

must  have  a  mind  and  heart  prepared  for  it. 
Hence  the  more  of  the  divine  life  we  have  in  our 
souls,  the  more  will  the  sacred  pages  reveal  to  us. 
It  is  not  so  much  intellectual  acumen  and  fine 
scholarship  that  we  need  as  spiritual  culture,  love 
for  Christ  and  the  warmth  of  devotion. 

A  young  lady  purchased  a  book  and  read  a  few 
pages,  but  was  not  interested  in  it.  Some  months 
afterward  she  met  the  author,  and  a  tender  friend- 
ship sprang  up,  ripening  into  love  and  betrothal. 
Then  the  book  was  dull  no  longer.  Every  sen- 
tence had  a  charm  for  her  heart.  Love  was  the 
interpreter.  So  to  those  who  do  not  know  Christ 
personally  the  Bible  seems  dry  and  uninteresting. 
But  when  they  learn  to  know  him  and  to  love 
him  all  is  changed;  and  the  deeper  their  love  for 
him  becomes,  the  more  do  the  sacred  j^^ges  glow 
with  beauty  and   light. 

It  is  good  to  store  away  in  our  hearts,  all  along 
the  bright  years  of  youth,  the  precious  truths  of 
God's  word.  In  visiting  the  INIammoth  Cave  they 
placed  lamps  in  our  hands  before  we  entered.  It 
seemed  a  very  useless  and  needless  thing  to  carry 
these  pale  lights  wliile  we  walked  in  the  full  blaze 
of  noonday.  But  we  moved  down  the  bank  and 
entered  the  cavern's  mouth.     Quickly  the  splendor 


2«  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

of  dayliglit  faded  out,  and  then  tlic  lamp-flames 
began  to  shine  briglitly.  We  soon  found  liow 
valuable  they  were,  and  how  necessary.  A\"ithout 
them  we  should  have  been  lost  in  the  thick  gloom 
and  in  the  inextricable  mazes  of  the  cave.  So 
God\s  promises  and  comforts  may  not  seem  need- 
ful to  us  in  the  brightness  of  youth  and  in  the 
days  of  health  and  gladness.  They  may  then 
seem  to  shine  with  but  a  pale  light.  But  as  we 
move  on  we  shall  pass  into  shadows — the  shadows 
of  sickness,  of  trial,  of  disappointment,  of  sorrow 
— and  then  their  beauty  and  splendor  will  shine 
out  and  prove  the  very  joy  and  strength  of  our 
souls. 


III. 

PRACTICAL  CONSECRATION. 

"  I  used  to  chafe  and  fret  when  interrupted  in  favorite  pur- 
suits, but  I  have  learned  that  my  time  all  belongs  to  God,  and 
I  just  leave  it  in  his  hands.  It  is  very  sweet  to  use  it  for  him 
when  he  has  anything  for  me  to  do,  and  pleasant  to  use  it  for 
myself  when  he  has  not." — Mrs.  Prentiss. 

A  GREAT  deal  of  our  talk  about  consecration 
■^^  is  very  vague  and  visionary.  We  are  told 
that  we  should  make  an  unreserved  transfer  of  our- 
selves to  Christ,  and  we  want  to  do  it.  We  wish 
to  keep  nothing  back  from  him.  We  adopt  the 
formula  of  consecration  when  we  connect  our- 
selves with  the  church.  We  use  the  liturgy  of 
consecration  continually  in  our  prayers,  saying 
over  and  over  again — sincerely  enough,  too — that 
we  give  ourselves  wholly  to  Christ.  We  sing 
with  glowing  heart  and  flowing  tears  the  rapturous 
liymns  of  consecration,  and  yet,  somehow,  we  are 
not  wholly  consecrated  to  Christ.     Saying  it,  pray- 

27 


28  WEKK-DAY  RELIGION. 

ing  it,  pinging  it,  ever  so  honestly  and  witli  ever 
so  endless  repetition,  we  are  still  painfully  conscious 
of  failure  in  fact,  and  we  become  discouraged, 
sometimes  even  doubting  altogether  the  reality  of 
our  conversion  because  we  cannot  consciouslv 
keep  ourselves  on  the  altar. 

One  trouble  is  that  the  consecration  we  aim  at 
is  emotional  rather  than  practical.  Then  another 
is  that  we  try  to  accomi)lish  too  much  at  once. 
We  attempt  to  make  over  all  our  life,  in  its  end- 
lessly varied  relations,  and  all  our  present  and 
future,  once  for  all  in  a  single  offering,  and  then 
it  seems  to  our  limited  experience  that  that 
should  be  final.  The  spirit  and  intention  are  right 
enough,  but  the  fact  is  that  in  actual  life  such 
consecration  is  quite  impracticable.  Theoretically 
it  is  correct,  but  in  experience  it  will  always  be 
found  vague  and  unsatisfactory.  The  only  truly 
practical  consecration  is  that  which  seeks  to  cover 
the  actual  present.  However  fully  we  may  have 
given  ourselves  to  Christ  at  conversion,  it  will 
avail  nothing  unless  ^ve  renew  it  with  each  sep- 
arate act  and  duty  as  it  presents  itself  to  us. 

Consecration  may  be  greatly  simplified  and  may 
be  made  intensely  practical  if  we  bring  it  down 
to  a   daily   matter,  attempting   to  cover  no   moie 


PRACTICAL  CONSECRATION.  29 

than  the  one  day,  and  if  we  each  morning  formally 
give  the  day  to  the  Lord,  to  be  occupied  as  he  may 
wish,  surrendering  all  our  plans  to  him,  to  be  set 
aside  or  affirmed  by  him  as  he  may  choose. 

For  example,  I  seek  in  tlie  morning  to  give 
myself  to  my  Master  for  that  day,  saying,  ^'  Take 
me,  Lord,  and  use  me  to-day  as  thou  wilt.  I  lay 
all  my  plans  at  thy  feet.  Whatever  work  thou 
hast  for  me  to  do,  give  it  into  my  hands.  If  there 
are  those  thou  wouldst  have  me  help  in  any  way, 
send  them  to  me  or  send  me  to  them.  Take  my 
time  and  use  it  just  as  thou  wilt."  I  think  no 
farther  on  than  to-day.  I  make  no  attempt  to 
give  months  and  years  to  Christ.  Why  sliould  I, 
before  they  are  mine  ?  I  have  this  one  brief  clay 
onlv,  and  how  can  I  consecrate  that  which  I  have 
not  yet  received? 

This  formula  of  consecration  is  a  transfer  of 
one's  plans  and  ambitions  into  the  hands  of  Christ. 
It  is  a  solemn  pledge,  too,  to  accept  the  plans  of 
the  Master  for  the  occupation  of  the  day,  no  mat- 
ter how  much  they  may  interfere  with  arrange- 
ments we  have  already  made,  or  how  many  pleas- 
ant things  they  may  cut  out  of  the  day's  pro- 
gramme. We  will  answer  every  call.  We  will 
patiently  submit  to  every  interruption.     We  will 


30  WKEK-J)A  y  llKLTdTOyr. 

accept  every  tluty.  We  will  go  on  ^^  Itli  the  work 
wliich  seems  best  to  us  if  the  Master  has  nothiiis: 
else  for  us  to  do;  but  if  he  has,  we  will  cheerfully 
drop  our  own  and  take  up  that  which  he  clearly 
gives  instead. 

So,  sometimes,  the  very  first  one  to  come  to  me 
in  the  golden  hours  of  the  morning,  which  are  so 
precious  to  every  student,  is  a  book-agent,  or  a 
man  with  fountain-pens  or  stove-polish,  or  per- 
chance only  a  pious  idler  who  has  no  errand  but 
to  pass  an  hour,  or  it  may  be  one  of  those  social 
news  venders  wdio  like  to  be  the  first  to  retail  all 
the  freshest  gossip.  Interrupted  thus  in  the  midst 
of  some  interesting  and  important  work,  my  first 
impulse  is  to  chafe  and  fret,  and  perhaps  to  give 
my  visitor  a  cold  welcome,  not  hiding  my  annoy- 
ance. But  then  I  remember  my  morning  conse- 
cration. Did  I  not  put  my  plans  and  my  time 
out  of  my  own  hands  into  my  Master's?  Did  I 
not  ask  him  to  send  me  any  work  he  had  for  me 
to  do,  and  to  make  use  of  me  in  ministering  to 
others  as  he  would?  If  I  was  sincere  and  would 
be  loyal  to  my  words,  must  I  not  accept  this 
early  caller  as  sent  to  me  for  some  helj)  or  some 
good  which  it  is  in  my  power  to  impart  to  him  ? 
If  I  would  carry  out  the  spirit  of  my  consecra- 


PRACTICAL  CONSECRATION.  31 

tloii,  I  must  neither  chafe,  nor  fret,  nor  manifest 
any  annoyance  at  the  interruption,  nor  do  auglit 
to  give  needless  pain  to  my  visitor. 

I  have  an  errand  to  thee,  O  man  my  brother ! 
What  it  is  I  know  not.  Perliaps  here  is  a  heavy 
heart  that  I  can  cheer  by  a  few  kindly  Avords.  I 
cannot  buy  anything.  I  cannot  give  up  an  hour 
to  hear  my  friend  recount,  for  the  hundredth  time, 
the  story  of  his  past  exploits.  I  cannot  listen  to 
the  wretched  gossip  which  my  mischievous  visitor 
wants  to  empty  into  my  ear;  and  yet  may  I  not 
have  an  errand  to  each?  It  may  be  that  I  can 
send  my  literary  friend  away  with  a  little  bit  of 
song  in  his  heart.  He  came  from  a  very  dreary 
home  this  morning.  He  is  poor.  He  has  gone  from 
Jiouse  to  house,  onlv  to  have  door  after  door  rudely 
shut  in  his  face.  He  is  heavy-hearted,  almost  in 
despair.  He  greatly  needs  money,  which  perhaps 
I  cannot  give  to  him,  but  he  needs  far  more.  Just 
now  a  brother's  sympathy — which  I  can  give — and 
a  kind,  cordial  reception,  a  few  minutes'  patient 
interest  shown  in  listenlno^  to  his  storv,  a  few 
encouraging  words,  any  suggestion  or  help  I  may 
be  able  to  give,  will  do  him  more  good  than  If  I 
were  to  buy  a  book  in  the  usual  unchristian  way  in 
such  cases.     Or  may  I  not  be  able  to  drop  some 


32  wj£i:k-day  religion. 

useful  word  into  tlie  ear  of  tlio  idler  or  of  the  gos- 
sipmonger  wliich  may  be  reiiiL'iuburcd  ?  I  must, 
at  least,  roiiarcl  inv  visitor  as  sent  to  me  with  some 
need  tliat  I  can  supply,  or  wanting  some  comfort  or 
blessing  which  I  can  impart. 

Or  the  errand  may  be  the  other  way.  He  may 
have  been  sent  to  me  with  a  benediction.  All 
duty  is  not  giving;  we  need  to  receive  as  well. 
AYe  ought  to  get  some  good  from  every  one  we 
meet.  God  can  oftentimes  teach  us  more  by  inter- 
rupting our  quiet  hours  and  by  setting  all  our  pet 
plans  aside  than  if  he  had  left  us  to  spend  the 
time  over  our  book  or  in  our  work. 

Let  us  at  least  beware  that  we  do  not  bow  out  of 
our  door  with  fretted  frown  one  whom  God  has  sent 
to  us  either  with  a  message  or  a  benediction  for  us, 
"which  must  be  carried  on  to  some  other,  since  we 
reject  it.  For  even  in  these  prosaic  days  Heaven 
sends  angels,  though  they  may  come  unawares,  not 
wearing  their  celestial  robes,  but  disguised  in  unat- 
tractive garb. 

Such  a  simple  consecration  is  easily  understood, 
and  becomes  very  practical  as  we  carry  it  out  in 
life.  It  deals  with  living  in  its  details,  and  not  in 
the  mass — in  the  concrete,  and  not  merely  in  the 
abstract.     It  is  not  theory  alone,  but  })ractice  also. 


PRACTICAL  CONSECRATION.  33 

And  it  seems  easier  to  give  just  one  short  day  at  a 
time  than  to  try  to  span  far-stretching  years  in  our 
consecration.  A  day  is  a  short  reach.  We  can 
bear  ahnost  any  burden  or  interruption  for  so  brief 
a  period.  Then  it  gives  a  holy  meaning  to  the 
common  week-dav  routine  of  work  and  contact 
with  other  lives  to  live  in  this  simple  way.  AH 
work  is  divinely  allotted,  and  the  voice  of  our  lov- 
ing Lord  is  heard  calling  us" at  every  turn.  It  im- 
parts a  sacredness  to  all  our  meetings — even  our 
most  casual  meetings  with  others.  There  is  no 
chance  that  the  eternal  God  does  not  guide.  You 
have  an  errand  to  every  one  who  comes  in  your 
path,  or  he  has  an  errand  to  you.  You  may  be 
very  weary,  but  if  there  is  a  call  for  Christlike 
ministry  you  must  obey  it.  You  may  have  your 
wrapper  and  slippers  on  after  a  hard  day's  work, 
and  outside  it  may  be  dark  and  stormy.  But  no 
matter ;  either  you  must  withdraw  your  morning's 
consecration,  or  you  must  follow  the  voice  that 
calls  you  to  deeds  of  mercy  and  love. 

If  we  learn  well  this  lesson,  it  takes  the  drudg- 
ery out  of  all  duties.  It  lifts  up  the  commonest 
intercourse  of  life  into  blessed  service  at  Christ's 
feet.  It  makes  us  patient  and  gentle  when  dealing 
with  the  most  disagreeable  people.      It  imparts  a 


'^^  ^VEEk'-DAY  RELIGION. 

liiul),  a  (liviiio,  motive  tx)  all  iVii-iulsliip  and  coin- 
pan  ioiisliip.  It  tcaclics  us  ])atience  amid  the  in- 
terruptions and  disarrangements  of  our  plans.  It 
disciplines  our  wayward  wills  in  little  things  and 
l)rings  tliem  into  subjection  to  Christ.  It  takes  the 
I'rivolity  out  of  our  conversation.  It  makes  us 
ever  watchful  of  our  influence  over  others  and  of 
our  treatment  of  them.  It  makes  us  ever  ready 
and  eager  both  to  receive  and  impart  help  and 
blessing.  Then  it  makes  consecration  to  Christ  not 
a  dim,  far-away,  merely  theoretical  thing,  but  a  liv- 
ing, practical  experience  which  charges  all  life  with 
meaning,  and  which  takes  hold  of  the  most  com- 
monplace things  in  our  prosaic  week-day  routine, 
transforming  them  into  beautiful  ministries  around 
the  feet  of  God. 


IV. 

HELPS  FOR  WORRIED  WEEK-DAYS. 

"  If  only  we  strive  to  be  pure  and  true, 

To  each  of  us  all  there  will  come  an  hour 
When  the  tree  of  life  shall  burst  into  flower, 
And  rain  at  our  feet  the  glorious  dower 
Of  something  grander  than  ever  we  knew." 

TTTE  have  only  successfully  acquired  the  art  of 
'  ^  livino;  a  Christian  life  when  we  have  learned 
to  apply  the  principles  of  religion  and  enjoy  its 
help  and  comfort  in  our  daily  life.  It  is  easy  to 
join  in  devotional  exercises,  to  quote  promises,  to 
extol  the  beauty  of  the  Scriptures ;  but  there  are 
many  who  do  these  things  whose  religion  utterly 
fails  them  in  the  very  places  and  at  the  very  times 
when  it  ought  to  prove  their  staff  and  stay. 

All  of  us  must  go  out  from  the  sweet  services  of 
the  Sabbath  into  a  week  of  very  real  and  very  pro- 
saic life.  We  must  mingle  with  people  that  are 
not  angels.  We  must  pass  through  experiences 
that  will  naturally  worry  and  vex  -  us.  Those 
about  us,  either  wittingly  or  unwittingly,  annoy  and 

36 


36  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

try  us.  Many  a  young  Christian  must  mingle  with 
those  who  do  not  love  Christ.  Every  one  meets 
many  anxieties  and  worries  in  ordinary  week-day 
life.  There  are  continual  irritations  and  annoy- 
ances. 

The  problem  is  to  live  a  beautiful  Christian  life 
in  the  face  of  all  these  hindrances.  How  can  w'e 
get  through  the  tangled  briers  which  grow  along 
our  path  without  having  our  hands  and  feet  torn 
by  them  ?  How  can  we  live  sweetly  amid  the 
vexing  and  irritating  things  and  the  multitude  of 
little  worries  and  frets  which  infest  our  way,  and 
which  we  cannot  evade? 

It  is  not  enough  merely  to  get  along  in  any  sort 
of  way,  to  drag  to  the  close  of  each  long,  weari- 
some day,  happy  when  night  comes  to  end  tlie 
strife.  Life  should  be  a  joy,  and  not  a  burden. 
We  should  live  victoriously,  ever  master  of  our  ex- 
periences, and  not  tossed  by  them  like  a  leaf  on 
the  dashing  waves.  Every  earnest  Christian  wants 
to  live  a  truly  beautiful  life,  whatever  the  circum- 
stances may  be. 

A  little  child,  when  asked  what  it  was  to  be  a 
Christian,  replied,  "  For  me  to  be  a  Christian  is  to 
live  as  Jesiis  \vould  live  and  behave  as  Jesus 
would  behave  if  he  were  a  little  girl  and  lived  at 


HELPS  FOB  WORRIED  WEEK-DAYS.        37 

our  house/'  No  better  definition  of  practical  re- 
ligion could  be  given.  Each  one  of  us  is  to  bear 
himself  just  as  Jesus  would  if  he  were  living  out 
our  little  life  in  the  midst  of  its  actual  environment, 
standing  all  day  just  where  we  stand,  mingling 
with  the  same  people  with  whom  we  must  mingle, 
and  exposed  to  the  very  annoyances,  trials  and 
provocations  to  which  we  are  exposed.  AYe  want 
to  live  a  life  that  will  please  God,  and  that  will 
bear  witness  on  its  face  to  the  genuineness  of  our 
piety. 

How  can  we  do  this  ?  We  must  first  recognize 
the  fact  that  our  life  must  be  lived  just  in  its  own 
circumstances.  We  cannot  at  present  change  our 
surroundings.  Whatever  we  are  to  make  of  our 
lives  must  be  made  in  the  midst  of  our  actual  ex- 
periences. Here  we  must  either  win  our  victories 
or  suffer  our  defeats.  We  may  think  our  lot  hard 
and  may  wish  it  were  otherwise,  that  we  had  a  life 
of  ease  and  luxury,  amid  softer  scen^^,  with  no 
briers  or  thorns,  no  worries  or  provocations.  Then 
we  should  be  always  gentle,  patient,  serene,  trustful, 
happy.  How  delightful  it  would  be  never  to  have 
a  care,  an  irritation,  a  cross,  a  single  vexing  thing ! 

But  meanwhile  this  fact  remains — that  our  aspi- 
ration cannot  be  realized,  and  that  whatever  our  life 


38  WEEK-DAY  llELKUON. 

is  to  be  made,  beautiful  or  marred,  we  must  make 
it  just  where  we  are.  No  restless  discontent  can 
change  our  lot.  AVe  cannot  get  into  any  elysium 
merely  by  longing  for  it.  Other  persons  may  have 
other  circumstances,  possibly  more  pleasant  than 
ours,  but  here  are  ours.  AVe  may  as  well  settle 
this  point  at  once  and  accept  the  battle  of  life  on 
this  field,  else,  while  we  are  vainly  wishing  for  a 
better  chance,  the  opportunity  for  victory  shall 
have  passed. 

The  next  thought  is  that  the  place  in  which  we 
find  ourselves  is  the  place  in  which  the  Master  de- 
sires us  to  live  our  life. 

"Thou  cam'st  not  to  thy  place  by  accident: 
It  is  the  very  place  God  meant  for  thee." 

There  is  no  haphazard  in  this  world.  God  leads 
every  one  of  his  children  by  the  right  way.  He 
knows  where  and  under  what  influences  each  par- 
ticular life, will  ripen  best.  One  tree  grows  best 
in  the  sheltered  valley,  another  by  the  water's 
edge,  another  on  the  bleak  mountain-top  swept  by 
storms.  There  is  always  adaptation  in  nature. 
Every  tree  or  plant  is  found  in  the  locality  where 
the  conditions  of  its  growth  exist,  and  does  God 
give  more  thought  to  trees  and  plants  than  to  his 


HELPS  FOR  WORRIED   WEEK-DAYS.        39 

own  children?  He  places  us  amid  the  circum- 
stances and  experiences  in  which  our  life  will 
grow  and  ripen  the  best.  The  peculiar  discipline 
to  which  we  are  each  subjected  is  the  discipline 
we  severally  need  to  bring  out  in  us  the  beauties 
and  graces  of  true  spiritual  character.  We  are  in 
the  right  school.  We  may  think  that  we  would 
ripen  more  quickly  in  a  more  easy  and  luxurious 
life,  but  God  knows  what  is  best ;  he  makes  no 
mistakes. 

There  is  a  little  fable  which  says  that  a  prim- 
rose growing  by  itself  in  a  shady  corner  of  the 
garden  became  discontented  as  it  saw  the  other 
flowers  in  their  gay  beds  in  the  sunshine,  and 
begged  to  be  removed  to  a  more  conspicuous 
place.  Its  prayer  was  granted.  The  gardener 
transplanted  it  to  a  more  showy  and  sunny  s])ot. 
It  was  greatly  pleased,  but  there  came  a  change 
over  it  immediately.  Its  blossoms  lost  much  of 
their  beauty  and  became  pale  and  sickly.  The  hot 
sun  caused  them  to  faint  and  wither.  So  it  prayed 
again  to  be  taken  back  to  its  old  place  in  the  shade. 
The  wise  gardener  knows  best  where  to  plant  each 
flower,  and  so  God,  the  divine  Husbandman,  knows 
where  his  people  will  best  grow  into  what  he  would 
have  them  to  be.     Some  recpiire  the  fierce  storms, 


40  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

sonic  \\\\\  only  tijrive  spiritually  in  the  shadow  of 
worldly  adversity,  and  some  come  to  ripeness  more 
sweetly  under  the  soft  and  gentle  influences  of 
prosperity  whose  beauty  rough  experiences  would 
mar.     He  knows  what  is  best  for  each  one. 

The  next  thought  is  that  it  is  possible  to  live  a 
beautiful  life  anywhere.  There  is  no  position  in 
tiiis  world  in  the  allotment  of  Providence  in 
which  it  is  not  possible  to  be  a  true  Christian 
exemplifying  all  the  virtues  of  Christianity.  The 
grace  of  Christ  has  in  it  potency  enough  to  enable 
us  to  live  well  wherever  we  are  called  to  dwell. 
When  God  chooses  a  home  for  us,  he  fits  us  for 
its  peculiar  trials.  There  is  a  beautiful  law  of 
compensation  that  runs  through  all  God's  provi- 
dence. Animals  made  to  dwell  amid  Arctic  snows 
are  covered  with  warm  furs.  The  cameFs  home 
is  the  desert,  and  a  wondrous  provision  is  made 
by  which  it  can  endure  long  journeys  across  the 
hot  sands  without  drink.  Birds  are  fitted  for  their 
flights  in  the  air.  Animals  made  to  live  among 
the  mountain-crags  have  feet  prepared  for  climbing 
over  the  steep  rocks.  In  all  nature  this  law  of 
special  equij)ment  and  preparation  for  allotted 
places  prevails. 

And  the   same  is   true   in   spiritual   life.     God 


HELPS  FOB  WOMRIED  WEEK-DAYS.        41 

adapts  his  grace  to  the  peculiarities  of  each  one's 
necessity.  For  rongh,  flinty  paths  he  provides 
shoes  of  iron.  He  never  sends  any  one  to  climb 
sharp,  rugged  mountain-sides  wearing  silken  slip- 
pers. He  gives  always  grace  sufficient.  As  the 
burdens  grow  heavier  the  strength  increases.  As 
the  difficulties  thicken  the  angel  draws  closer.  As 
the  trials  become  sorer  the  trusting  heart  grows 
calmer.  Jesus  always  sees  his  disciples  when  they 
are  toiling  in  the  waves,  and  at  the  right  moment 
comes  to  deliver  them.  Thus  it  becomes  possible 
to  live  a  true  and  victorious  life  in  any  circum- 
stances. Christ  can  as  easily  enable  Joseph  to 
remain  pure  and  true  in  heathen  Egypt  as  Ben- 
jamin in  the  shelter  of  his  father's  love.  The 
sharper  the  temptations,  the  more  of  divine  grace 
is  granted.  There  is,  therefore,  no  environment 
of  trial  or  difficulty  or  hardship  in  which  we 
cannot  live  beautiful  lives  of  Christian  fidelity 
and  approved  conduct. 

Instead,  then,  of  yielding  to  discouragement 
when  trials  multiply  and  it  becomes  hard  to  live 
right,  or  of  being  satisfied  with  a  broken  peace 
and  a  very  faulty  life,  it  should  be  the  settled  pur- 
pose of  each  one  to  live,  through  the  grace  of  God, 
a  patient,  gentle  and  unspotted  life  in  the  place 


42  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

and  amid  the  circumstances  allotted.  The  true 
victory  is  not  found  in  es('a])inij!:  or  evading  trials, 
but  in  rightly  meeting  and  enduring  them.  The 
questions  should  not  be,  "  How  can  I  get  out  of 
these  worries?  How  cui  I  get  into  a  place  where 
there  shall  be  no  irritations,  nothing  to  try  my 
temper  or  put  my  patience  to  the  test?  How  can 
I  avoid  the  distractions  that  continually  harass 
me?"  There  is  nothing  noble  in  such  living. 
The  soldier  who  flies  to  the  rear  when  he  smells 
tlie  battle  is  no  hero;  he  is  a  coward. 

The  questions  should  rather  be,  ^^  How  can  T 
pass  through  these  trying  experiences  and  not  fail 
as  a  Christian?  How  can  I  endure  these  strug- 
gles and  not  suffer  defeat?  How  can  I  live  amid 
tliese  provocations,  these  reproaches  and  testings 
of  my  temper,  and  yet  live  sweetly,  not*  speaking 
unadvisedly,  bearing  injuries  meekly,  returning 
gentle  answers  to  insulting  words  ?"  This  is  the 
true  problem  of  Christian  living. 

We  are  at  school  here.  This  life  is  discipli- 
nary. Processes  are  not  important :  it  is  results 
we  want.  If  a  tree  grow  into  majesty  and  strength, 
it  matters  not  whether  it  be  in  the  deep  vale  or  on 
the  cold  peak,  whether  calm  or  storm  nurture  it. 
If    character    develop)   into   Christlike   symmetry, 


HELPS  FOB  WORRIED  WEEK-DAYS.        43 

what  does  it  matter  whether  it  be  in  ease  and  luxury 
or  through  hardship?  The  important  matter  is  not 
the  process,  but  the  result — not  the  means,  but  the 
end ;  and  the  end  of  all  Christian  nurture  is  spirit- 
ual loveliness.  To  be  made  truly  noble  and  godlike 
we  should  be  willing  to  submit  to  any  discipline. 

Every  obstacle  to  true  living  should,  then,  only 
nerve  us  with  fresh  determination  to  succeed.  We 
should  use  each  difficulty  and  hardship  as  a  lever- 
age to  gain  some  new^  advantage.  We  should  com- 
pel our  temptations  to  minister  to  us  instead  of 
hindering  us.  We  should  regard  all  our  provo- 
cations, annoyances  and  trials,  of  whatever  sort, 
as  practice-lessons  in  the  application  of  the  theories 
of  Christian  life.  It  will  be  seen  in  the  end  that 
the  hardships  and  difficulties  are  by  no  means  the 
smallest  blessings  of  our  lives.  Some  one  com- 
pares them  to  the  weights  of  a  clock,  without 
which  there  could  be  no  steady,  orderly  life. 

The  tree  that  grows  where  tempests  toss  its 
boughs  and  bend  its  trunk,  often  almost  to  break- 
ing, is  more  firmly  rooted  than  the  tree  which 
grows  in  the  sequestered  valley  where  no  storm 
ever  brings  stress  or  strain.  The  same  is  true  in 
life.  The  grandest  character  is  grown  in  hard- 
ship.     Effeminacy  springs   out   of    luxury.      The 


44  WEEK-BAY  RELIGION. 

best  men  the  world  ever  reared  liave  been  brought 
up  in  the  scliool  of  adversity  and  hardsliip. 

Besides,  it  is  no  heroism  to  live  patiently  where 
there  is  no  provocation,  bravely  where  there  is  no 
danger,  calmly  where  there  is  nothing  to  per- 
turb. Not  the  hermit's  cave,  but  the  heart  of  busy 
life,  tests  as  well  as  makes  character.  If  we  can 
live  patiently,  lovingly  and  cheerfully  amid  all 
our  frets  and  irritations  day  after  day,  year  after 
year,  that  is  grander  heroism  than  the  farthest- 
famed  military  exploits,  for  he  that  ruleth  his  own 
spirit  is  better  than  he  that  taketli  a  city. 

This  is  our  allotted  task.  It  is  no  easy  one.  It 
can  be  accomplished  only  by  the  most  resolute  de- 
cision, with  unwavering  purpose  and  incessant 
watchfulness. 

Nor  can  it  be  accomplished  without  the  contin- 
ual help  of  Christ.  Each  one's  battle  must  be  a 
personal  one.  We  may  decline  the  struggle,  but  it 
will  be  declining  also  the  joy  of  victory.  No  one 
can  reach  the  summit  without  climbing  the  steep 
mountain-path.  We  cannot  be  borne  up  on  any 
strong  shoulder.  No  one,  not  even  God,  can  carry 
us  up.  Heaven  does  not  put  features  of  beauty 
into  our  lives  as  the  jeweler  sets  gems  in  clusters 
in   a  coronet.     The  unlovely  elements  are  not  re- 


HELPS  FOB  WORRIED  WEEK-DAYS.        45 

moved  and  replaced  by  lovely  ones  like  slides  in 
the  stereopticon.  Each  must  win  his  way  through 
struggles  and  efforts  to  all  noble  attainments.  The 
help  of  God  is  given  only  in  co-operation  with  hu- 
man aspiration  and  energy.  While  God  works  in 
us,  we  are  to  work  out  our  own  salvation.  He  that 
overcometh  shall  be  a  pillar  in  the  temple  of  God. 
We  should  accept  the  task  with  quiet  joy.  We 
shall  fail  many  times.  Many  a  night  we  shall  re- 
tire to  weep  at  Christ's  feet  over  the  day's  defeat. 
In  our  efforts  to  follow  the  copy  set  for  us  by  our 
Lord,  we  shall  write  many  a  crooked  line  and  leave 
many  a  blotted  page  blistered  with  tears  of  regret. 
Yet  we  must  keep  through  all  a  brave  heart,  an 
unfaltering  purpose  and  a  calm,  joyful  confidence 
in  God.  Temporary  defeat  should  only  cause  us  to 
lean  on  Christ  more  fully.  Heaven  is  on  the  side 
of  every  one  who  is  loyally  struggling  to  do  the 
divine  will  and  to  grow  into  Christlikeness.  And 
that  means  assured  victory  to  every  one  whose 
heart  fails  not. 

"If  only  we  strive  to  be  pure  and  true, 
The  foam  of  the  sea  will  lower  its  crest, 
And  the  weary  waves  that  we  used  to  breast 
Will  sob  and  turn,  and  sink  slowly  to  rest 
With  a  tender  calm  all  over  and  through." 


V. 

THE  CURE  FOR  CARE. 
"God  writes  straight  on  crooked  lines." — Spanish  Proverb. 

rXlHERE  is  no  life  into  wliich  do  not  come  many 
-'■-  things  calculated  to  cause  anxiety  and  distrac- 
tion of  mind.  There  are  great  sorrows  ;  there  are 
perplexities  as  to  duty;  there  are  disappointments 
and  losses ;  there  are  annoyances  and  hindrances ; 
there  are  chafings  and  irritations  in  ordinary  life; 
and  there  are  countless  petty  cares  and  frets.  All  of 
these  tend  to  break  the  heart's  peace  and  to  dis- 
turb its  quiet,  yet  there  is  no  lesson  that  is 
urged  more  continuously  or  more  earnestly  in  the 
Scriptures  than  that  a  Christian  should  never 
worry  or  let  care  oppress  his  heart.  He  is  to  live 
without  distraction  and  with  peace  unbroken  even 
in  the  midst  of  the  most  trying  experiences. 

If,  then,  we  are  never  to  be  anxious,  never  to 
take  distracting  thouglit,  what  are  we  to  do  with 
the  thousand  things  calculated  to  perplex  us  and 

46 


THE  CUBE  FOB   CABE.  47 

produce  anxiety  ?  If  we  are  not  to  take  thought 
about  these  matters,  who  will  do  it  for  us?  AVho 
is  to  think  for  us  ?  Who  is  to  unravel  the  tangles 
for  our  unskilled  fingers?  When  cares  and  anx- 
ieties come  to  our  hearts,  what  are  we  to  do  with 
themf 

Some  one  may  say  that  it  is  impossible  to  avoid 
worrying.  The  disturbing  experiences  will  come 
into  our  lives,  and  we  cannot  shut  them  out.  It  is 
true  they  will  come,  but  it  is  not  true  that  we  must 
admit  them  and  surrender  ourselves  to  their  power. 
It  was  a  saying  of  Luther  that  we  cannot  prevent 
the  birds  flying  about  our  heads,  but  we  can  pre- 
vent them  building  their  nests  in  our  hair.  In 
like  manner,  it  is  impossible  to  keep  cares  from 
flocking  in  great  swarms  around  us,  but  it  is  our 
own  fault  if  they  are  allowed  to  make  nests  in  our 
hearts.  We  are  to  hold  our  hearts'  doors  and  win- 
dows shut  against  them  just  as  resolutely  as  against 
the  temptations  that  constantly  assail  us,  craving 
admission  into  our  lives. 

This  applies  to  all  our  worries,  whether  great  or 
small.  We  are  apt  to  say,  "Oh  yes,  but  my  trial 
is  peculiar.  It  is  one  of  those  that  cannot  be  kept 
out,  laid  down  or  cast  off.^'  But  there  is  no  such 
exception    made    in    the    divine    plan    of    living 


48  WEEK-DA  Y  RELIGION. 

marked  out  for  us  in  tlic  inP2)ircd  word.  Anxiety 
or  distraction  is  never  to  be  admitted.  Nothing, 
small  or  great,  is  to  disturb  our  ])eace.  We  may 
have  sorrow  or  suffering  or  toil  or  painful  stress 
and  strain,  but  never  worry. 

What,  then,  is  the  divine  life-plan  ?  What  are 
we  to  do  with  our  cares  ? 

Everything  that  threatens  to  give  us  anxiety  is 
to  be  taken  at  once  to  God.  Nothing  is  too  great 
to  carry  to  him.  Does  not  he  bear  up  all  worlds? 
Does  not  he  rule  over  all  the  affairs  of  the  uni- 
verse ?  Is  there  any  matter  in  our  life,  how  great 
soever  it  may  seem  to  us,  too  hard  for  him  to  man- 
age? Is  any  perplexity  too  sore  for  him  to  re- 
solve? Is  any  human  despair  too  dark  for  him  to 
illumine  with  hope  ?  Is  there  any  tangle  or  con- 
fusion out  of  which  he  cannot  extricate  us?  Or 
is  anything  too  small  to  bring  to  him  ?  Is  he  not 
our  Father,  and  is  he  not  interested  in  whatever 
concerns  us?  There  is  not  one  of  the  countless 
things  that  fly  like  specks  of  dust  all  through  our 
daily  life,  tending  to  vex  and  fret  us,  that  we 
may  not  take  to  God.  And  this  is  the  cure  which 
the  Scriptures  prescribe  for  care.  The  divine  phil- 
osophy of  living  says,  "  Be  anxious  for  nothing,  but 
make  everything  known  to  God;  in  everything,  by 


THE  CURE  FOR   CARE,  49 

prayer  and  thanksgiving,  let  your  requests  be  made 
known  unto  God."  Refer  every  disturbing  thing 
to  him  that  he  may  bear  the  burden  of  it. 

"  But  why  should  I  have  to  make  it  known  to 
him?"  asks  some  one.  "He  knows  all  about  it 
ah'eady.  Why  must  I  take  it  to  him?"  It  is 
reason  enough  that  he  has  asked  us  to  do  it ;  and  if 
we  will  not  make  it  known  to  him,  can  we  complain 
if  he  does  not  help  us?  He  wants  us  to  learn  to 
confide  in  him  and  to  flee  to  him  in  every  moment 
of  perplexity  or  pressure.  Whenever  there  comes 
into  our  experience  a  difficulty,  an  annoyance — 
anything  that  tends  to  produce  irritation  or  anx- 
iety or  alarm  or  confusion — we  are  to  carry  it  at 
once  to  God.  We  are  to  get-  it  somehow  out  of 
our  unskilled  hands  and  off  our  frail  shoulder  into 
the  hands  and  over  upon  the  shoulder  of  Christ. 

It  is  not  enough  to  kneel  down  and  make  a 
prayer,  nor  is  it  enough  to  pray  about  the  par- 
ticular matter  that  worries  us,  asking  for  help  or 
deliverance.  Only  the  most  simple-hearted  definite- 
ness  in  prayer  will  meet  the  need.  We  must  bring 
the  very  perplexity  itself  and  put  it  out  of  our  hands 
into  God's  that  he  may  work  it  out  for  us.  We 
are  to  bring  the  matter  as  literally  to  him  as  we 
would  carrv  a  broken  watch  to  the  watchmaker's, 


50  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

leaving  it  for  him  to  repair  and  readjust.  A  little 
child  playing  with  a  handful  of  cords,  when  they 
begin  to  get  into  a  tangle,  goes  at  once  to  her 
mother  that  her  patient  fingers  may  unravel  the 
snarl.  How  much  better  this  than  to  pull  and 
tug  at  the  cords  till  the  tangle  becomes  inextrica- 
ble !  May  not  many  of  us  learn  a  lesson  from 
the  little  child?  Would  it  not  be  better  for  us, 
whenever  we  find  the  smallest  entanglement  in 
any  of  our  affairs  or  the  arising  of  any  perplexity, 
to  take  it  at  once  to  God  that  his  skillful  hands 
may  set  it  right? 

Then,  having  taken  it  to  him  and  put  it  into 
his  hands,  we  are  to  leave  it  with  him;  having 
gotten  it  off  our  own  shoulder  upon  his,  we  are  to 
allow  it  to  remain  there.  But  it  is  just  at  this 
point  that  most  of  us  fail.  We  tell  God  about 
our  worries,  and  then  go  on  worrying  still  as  if 
we  had  never  gone  to  him  at  all  or  as  if  he 
had  refused  to  help  us.  We  pray  about  our 
cares,  but  do  not  cast  them  off.  We  make  suppli- 
cation, but  do  not  unlade  our  burdens.  Praying 
does  us  no  good.  It  makes  us  no  more  content- 
ed or  submissive,  or  patient,  or  peaceful.  We 
do  not  get  the  worries  out  of  our  own  hands  at 
all.     This  is  the  vital  point  in  the  whole  matter. 


THE  CUBE  FOE  CARE.  51 

Or  perhaps  we  do  cast  the  burden  upon  God 
while  we  are  praying,  and  feel  for  the  moment  a 
strange  sense  of  joy  in  our  soul.  We  rise  and  go 
a  few  steps  as  light-hearted  as  an  angel.  We  have 
given  God  our  cares  to  keep.  But  in  a  little  while 
we  have  gathered  up  all  the  old  burdens  and  anx- 
ieties again  and  have  them  once  more  on  our  own 
shoulder,  and  we  go  bowing  under  them,  fretting 
and  worrying  as  before. 

"A  step  or  two  on  winged  feet,  " 

And  then  I  turned  to  share 
The  burden  thou  hadst  taken  up 

Of  ever-pressing  care ; 
So  what  I  would  not  leave  with  thee 

Of  course  I  had  to  bear." 

But  is  that  the  best  the  religion  of  Christ  can 
do  for  us  ?  Is  that  the  full  meaning  of  the  priv- 
ilege expressed  in  so  many  golden  promises  in  the 
Scriptures  ?  Is  a  little  moment's  rest  from  anx- 
iety in  the  midst  of  long  days  of  care  all  that  it 
is  possible  for  us  to  obtain?  During  the  brief 
pauses  of  a  great  battle  the  soldiers  heard  a  spar- 
row sing  snatches  of  song  from  among  the  branches 
of  a  tree.  Then,  when  the  awful  roar  burst  out 
again,  its  song  was  hushed.  Is  that  the  full 
meaning  of  the  peace  that  Christ  promises?     Is 


62  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION, 

it  only  a  sweet  bird-note  now  and  then  amid  the 
long  days  and  years  of  discontent  and  struggle? 
They  sadly  misread  the  blessed  words  of  divine 
comfort  who  find  nothing  better  than  this  prom- 
ise. We  are  permitted  to  roll  our  care  entirely 
over  on  God  and  to  let  it  stay  there.  We  are  to 
put  the  broken  plan,  the  shattered  hope,  the  tan- 
gled work,  the  complicated  affair,  into  the  hands 
of  the  God  of  providence,  leaving  the  ordering 
and  outcome  of  it  to  his  wisdom.  The  provoca- 
tion, the  friction,  the  burden  that  presses  sorely, 
the  annoyance,  the  hindrance, — instead  of  permit- 
ting ourselves  to  be  vexed,  exasperated  or  dis- 
turbed by  them,  we  are  quietly  to  turn  the  matter 
over  to  God,  and  then  go  on  calmly  to  the  next 
duty  that  comes  to  our  hand. 

And,  having  done  this,  we  are  to  cease  to  worry. 
We  have  given  the  perplexity  to  God.  We  have 
asked  him  to  think  for  us,  plan  for  us  and  take 
the  ordering  of  the  affair  into  his  own  hands.  It 
is  our  matter,  therefore,  no  longer,  but  his.  Should 
we  not  be  willing  to  trust  him?  We  put  our 
worldly  affairs  and  interests  into  the  hands  of  men 
and  feel  that  they  are  safe.  We  commit  our  sick- 
nesses to  the  skill  of  our  physician.  Business  com- 
plications we  confide  to  the  wisdom  of  our  lawyer. 


THE  CUBE  FOB  CABE.  53 

A  broken  machine  we  turn  over  to  a  mechanic.  Is 
not  God  wise  enough  to  manage  the  complications 
of  our  lives  and  to  bring  order  and  beauty  out  of 
them  ?  Has  he  not  skill  enough  ?  Is  he  not  our 
Father?  and  will  he  not  always  do  the  very  best 
and  wisest  thing  for  us?  Should  we  not  trust 
him  and  cease  to  be  anxious  about  anything  that 
we  have  committed  to  him  ?  Is  not  anxiety  doubt  ? 
and  is  not  doubt  sin  ?  We  are  to  commit  our  way 
to  the  Lord,  trust  him  and  be  at  peace. 

The  only  thing  that  concerns  us  is  our  duty. 
God  will  weave  the  web  into  patterns  of  beauty 
unless  by  our  follies  and  sins  we  mar  it.  But  we 
must  not  hurry  him.  His  plans  are  sometimes 
very  long,  and  our  impatience  may  mar  them,  as 
well  as  our  sins.  The  buds  of  his  purposes  must 
not  be  torn  open.  We  must  wait  till  his  fingers 
unfold  them. 

"  God's  plans,  like  lilies  pure  and  white,  unfold : 
We  must  not  tear  the  close-shut  leaves  apart; 

Time  will  reveal  the  calyxes  of  gold. 

And  if,  through  patient  toil,  we  reach  the  land 

Where  tired  feet,  with  sandals  loose,  may  rest, 
Where  we  shall  clearly  know  and  understand, 

I  think  that  we  will  say,  'God  knew  the  best.'" 


VI. 

GLIMPSES  AT  LIFE'S  WINDOWS. 

"IVrO  one  can  ponder  the  great  theme  of  immor- 
-^  ^  tality  for  an  hour  and  not  feel  the  stir  and 
glow  of  a  better,  nobler  life  in  him.  In  our  more 
prosaic  moods  we  are  like  men  shut  up  in  a  narrow 
cell.  We  see  for  the  time  nothing  but  the  little 
patch  of  dusty  floor  at  our  feet  and  the  cold, 
cheerless  walls  that  encircle  us.  We  are  occupied 
with  our  little  round  of  duties.  Burdens  press, 
sorrows  pour  bitter  tears  into  our  cup,  our  hopes  are 
shattered  ;  or  we  have  our  short-lived  joys,  we  see 
our  plans  succeed,  and  play  at  living  like  children 
in  their  mimic  fancies.  Now  and  then  we  have 
intimations  of  a  wider  and  more  glorious  world 
outside  our  walls,  stretching  away  beyond  the 
small  circle  in  which  we  dwell.  Faint  voices  ap- 
pear to  come  to  us  from  without.  Or  there  are 
glimmerings  as  if  of  memory,  like  the  visionary 
gleams  of  a  past   and   forgotten  life,  which  flash 

54 


GLIMPSES  AT  LIFE'S  WINDOWS.  55 

before  us  in  our  higher  moods.  In  these  rare  mo- 
ments we  seem  to  realize  the  meaning  of  the  poet's 
sublime  thought : 

"  Our  birth  is  but  a  sleep  and  a  forgetting ; 

The  soul  that  rises  with  us,  our  life's  star, 
Hath  had  elsewhere  its  setting, 

And  cometh  from  afar; 
Not  in  entire  forgetfulness, 
And  not  in  utter  nakedness, 
But  trailing  clouds  of  glory,  do  we  come 
From  God,  who  is  our  home." 

But  to  most  of  us  pent  up  in  this  earthly  life 
these  are  only  merest  intimations,  faintest  whispers, 
dreamlike  suggestions.  We  go  on  living  in  our 
narrow  sphere,  oppressed  by  its  limitations,  our 
faculties  and  powers  stunted  by  its  gloom. 

Did  you  ever  climb  the  winding  staircase  in  the 
interior  of  some  great  monument  or  tower?  At 
intervals,  as  you  ascended,  you  came  to  a  window 
which  let  in  a  little  light,  and  through  which,  as 
you  looked  out,  you  had  a  glimpse  of  a  great  ex- 
panse of  fair  and  lovely  world  outside  the  dark 
tower.  You  saw  green  fields,  rich  gardens,  pic- 
turesque landscapes,  streams  flashing  like  flow- 
ing silver  in  the  sunshine,  the  blue  sea  yonder,  and 
far  away,  on  the  other  hand,  the  shadowy  forms  of 
great  mountains.     How  little,  how  dark,  how  poor 


56  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

and  cheerless,  seemed  the  close,  narrow  limits  of 
your  staircase  as  you  looked  out  upon  the  illimit- 
able view  that  stretched  from  your  window  ! 

Life  in  this  world  is  like  the  a.scent  of  such  a 
column.  But  while  we  climb  heavily  and  wearily 
up  its  steep,  dark  stairway,  there  lies,  outside  the 
thick  walls,  a  glorious  world  reaching  away  into 
eternity,  beautiful  and  filled  with  the  rarest  things 
of  God's  love.  And  thoughts  of  immortality, 
when  they  come  to  us,  are  little  windows  through 
which  we  have  glim])scs  of  the  infinite  sweep  and 
stretch  of  life  beyond  this  hampered,  broken,  frag- 
mentary existence  of  earth. 

The  doctrine  of  the  resurrection  is  one  of  these 
windows.  It  opens  to  us  a  vista  running  away 
beyond  the  grave.  Death  is  a  m.ere  episode,  a 
mere  experience,  an  incident  on  the  way.  Even 
the  grave,  which  seems  to  quench  all  the  light  of 
life,  is  but  a  chamber  in  which  we  shall  disrobe 
ourselves  of  the  infirmities,  blemishes  and  im- 
perfections of  mortality  and  be  reclothed  in  the 
holy,  spotless  vesture  of  immortality.  Thus  we 
sleep  at  night,  and  sleep  seems  like  death  ;  but  we 
awake  in  the  morning,  our  life  unharmed,  un wasted, 
made  fairer,  fuller,  fresher,  stronger.  Winter  comes, 
and  the  leaves  fall,  the  flowers  fade,  the  plants  die 


GLIMPSES  AT  LIFE'S  WINDOWS.  57 

and  snow  wraps  the  earth  in  a  blanket  of  death. 
But  spring  comes  again,  and  the  buds  burst  out 
anew,  the  flowers  lift  their  heads  and  the  grasses 
shoot  up  once  more.  From  beneath  the  great 
drifts  the  gentlest  and  most  delicate  forms  of  life 
come  as  fresh  and  fragrant  as  if  they  had  been 
nourished  in  a  conservatory.  Nature  rises  from  the 
grave  of  winter  in  new  beauty  and  luxuriance.  In 
place  of  the  sere  leaves  and  faded  loveliness  and 
exhausted  vigor  of  the  autumn,  there  is  now  all  the 
splendor  of  new  creation.  Every  leaf  is  green, 
every  pore  is  flowing  full  of  vital  sap,  and  every 
flower  pours  sweetest  fragrance  on  the  air. 

The  grave  is  but  lifers  winter,  from  whose  dark- 
ness and  chill  we  shall  come  with  unwasted  beauty. 
Then,  away  beyond  this  strange  experience,  as  we 
look  out  at  the  window  again,  we  see  life  going  on, 
exj)anding,  deepening,  enriching. 

When  the  truth  of  immortal  existence  comes 
into  our  personal  consciousness,  it  opens  a  wonder- 
ful vista  before  us.  It  gives  life  a  new  glory.  It 
furnishes  one  of  the  most  powerful  motives  foi* 
noble  living. 

The  weakness  of  most  lives,  even  of  most 
Christian  lives,  is  the  absence  of  this  motive.  For, 
however  firmly  we  may  cling  to  the  truth  of  im- 


58  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

mortality  as  a  belief,  there  are  but  few  lives  in 
which  it  is  so  realized  as  to  be  a  ruling  inspiration, 
a  strong,  masterful  conviction.  How  it  would 
widen  out  all  our  thoughts,  conceptions,  hopes  and 
plans  if  the  walls  that  divide  life  here  and  here- 
after were  broken  down  and  our  eyes  could  see  our 
own  existence  in  perspective,  stretching  away  into 
eternity,  as  real,  as  personal,  as  fraught  with  interest 
beyond  the  grave  as  on  this  side  of  it !  How  it 
would  lift  up,  dignify,  ennoble,  inspire,  awaken 
and  deepen  all  our  life  if  we  could  but  hold  the 
truth  of  personal  immortality  in  our  consciousness 
all  the  while  as  vividly  and  as  really  as  we  hold 
to-morrow  ! 

The  grave  would  not  then  be  the  end  of  any- 
thing save  of  mortality  and  of  the  sins,  weights 
and  infirmities  which  belong  to  this  earthly  state. 
It  would  break  up  no  plans.  It  avouM  cut  off 
nothing.  If  we  see  life  only  as  a  narrow  stage 
bounded  by  the  curtain  that  falls  at  death,  ending 
there  for  ever,  how  poor  and  little  and  limited  does 
existence  appear !  We  can  have  no  plans  that  re- 
quire more  than  earth's  brief  day  for  their  com- 
])letion.  We  can  start  no  work  that  cannot  be 
finished  before  the  end  comes.  We  may  cherish 
no  joys  that  will  reach  over  into  the  life  hereafter. 


GLIMPSES  A  T  LIFE 'S  WIND OWS.  59 

We  may  sow  no  seeds  that  will  not  come  to  har- 
vest this  side  of  the  grave.  Our  souls  may  be 
thrilled  by  no  aspirations  and  hopes  that  have 
their  goal  beyond  the  shadows.  But  how  different 
if  we  see  life  with  the  veil  torn  away !  The  future 
is  as  much  in  our  vision  and  as  real  as  the  little 
present.  We  may  begin  works  here  which  shall 
require  ten  thousand  years  to  complete.  There  is 
no  hurry,  for  we  shall  have  all  eternity  in  which  to 
work.  We  may  scatter  seeds  which  we  know 
shall  not  come  to  harvest  for  long  ages.  We  may 
cherish  hopes  and  aspirations  whose  goals  lie  far 
away  in  the  life  to  come.  We  may  endure  sacri- 
fices, hardships  and  toils  which  cannot  bring  any 
recompense  or  reward  in  this  world,  knowing  that 
in  the  long  yearless  future  we  shall  find  glorious 
return. 

Life  may  seem  a  failure  here,  crushed  like  a  lily 
under  the  heel  of  wrong  or  sin,  broken,  trampled, 
torn.  But  it  may  yet  become  a  glorious  success. 
Many  of  the  truest  and  best  of  God's  children 
know  only  defeat  in  this  world.  They  are  ever- 
more beaten  back  and  thrust  doAvn.  The  burdens 
are  too  heavy  for  them.  They  are  overmastered 
by  sorrows.  The  world's  enmity  treads  them  in 
the  dust.      They  are  not  worldly-wise,  and  while 


60  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

otbere  march  by  to  great  earthly  success  they  live 
obscurely,  oppressed,  cheated,  wronged,  and  lie 
buried  away  in  the  darkness  of  failure.  If  the 
vista  did  not  reach  beyond  the  bare  and  cold  room 
in  which  these  unsuccessful  ones  breathe  their  last, 
we  might  drop  a  tear  of  pity  over  their  sad  story 
of  defeat.  But  when  the  curtain  is  lifted  and  we 
see  millions  of  years  of  existence  for  them  on  the 
other  side,  we  dry  our  tears.  There  will  be  time 
enough  for  them  to  retrieve  the  failure  of  earth. 
Through  the  love  and  grace  of  Christ,  the  defeated 
Christian  life  that  goes  out  in  the  darkness  here 
may  be  restored  to  beauty  and  power,  and  in  the 
long  ages  beyond  death  may  realiz^  all  the  hopes 
that  seemed  utterly  wrecked  in  this  world. 

Indeed,  it  may  be  that  those  who  have  failed 
here,  as  men  phrase  it,  are  the  very  ones  who  shall 
win  the  highest  success  in  the  after-life  if  they  have 
kept  their  garments  clean  amid  the  struggles  and 
toils.  It  has  been  said  that  heaven  is  probably  a 
place  for  those  who  have  failed  on  earth — for  the 

"Delicate  spirits  pushed  away 
In  the  hot  press  of  the  noonday." 

Certainly,  for  the  Christian,  the  realization  of  the 
truth  of  immortality  takes  away  the  bitterness  of 


GLIMPSES  AT  LIFE'S  WINDOWS.  61 

earthly  defeat.  There  will  be  time  enough  for 
victory  and  for  the  most  glorious  success  in  the 
unending  eternity. 

There  are  lives  that  are  cut  off  here  before  any 
of  their  powers  are  developed.  A  thousand  hopes 
cluster  about  them.  Dreams  of  greatness  or  of 
beauty  fill  the  visions  of  loving  friends.  Then 
suddenly  they  are  stricken  down  in  the  dim  dawn 
or  the  early  morning.  The  bud  had  not  time  to 
open  out  its  beauties  in  the  short  summer  of  earthly 
existence.  It  is  borne  away  still  folding  up  in 
its  close-shut  calyxes  all  its  germs  and  possibilities 
of  power,  loveliness  and  life.  Sorrow  weeps  bit- 
terly over  the  hopes  that  seem  blighted  and  cuts 
its  symbols  of  incompleteness  upon  the  marble; 
and  yet,  with  the  warmth  of  immortality  pressing 
up  against  the  gates,  what  matters  it  that  the  bud 
did  not  open  here  and  unfold  its  beauties  this  side 
the  grave?  There  will  be  time  enough  in  hea- 
ven's long  summer  for  every  life  to  put  out  all  its 
loveliness  and  glory.  No  hopes  are  blighted  that 
are  only  carried  forward  into  the  immortal  years. 
!N"o  life  is  incomplete  because  it  is  cut  off  too  soon 
to  ripen,  in  an  earthly  home,  into  majesty  of  form 
and  glory  of  fruitage ;  for  death  does  not  come  to 
the  Christian  as  a  destroyer.     It  dims  no  si)lendor. 


02  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

It  blots  out  no  beauty.  It  jwvralyzes  no  power. 
It  blights  no  bud  or  germ.  It  only  takes  out  of 
life  whatever  is  dull,  earthly  and  opaque,  whatever 
is  corrupt  and  mortal,  and  leaves  it  pure,  brilliant, 
glorious. 

"Heaven's  light  for  ever  shines,  earth's  shadows  fly; 
Life,  like  a  dome  of  many-colored  glass. 
Stains  the  white  radiance  of  eternity, 
Until  death  tramples  it  to  fragments." 

Death  only  sweeps  away  the  limitations,  breaks 
down  the  walls,  shatters  the  crust  of  mortality, 
washes  out  the  stains,  and  then  life  expands  into 
perfect  freedom,  fullness,  joy  and  power.  The 
translation  of  a  Christian  life  from  earth  to  heaven 
is  but  like  the  removal  of  a  tender  plant  from  a 
cold  northern  garden,  where  it  is  stunted  and  dying, 
into  a  tropical  field,  where  it  puts  out  most  lux- 
uriant growths  and  covers  itself  with  splendor. 

There  ought  to  be  wondrous  comforting  power 
in  the  truth  of  immortality  for  those  who  carry 
here  the  burdens  of  sickness,  infirmity  or  deform- 
ity ;  and  there  are  many  such.  Many  lovely  bodies 
are  full  of  disease;  they  stagger  under  life's  lightest 
burdens.  Then  there  are  many  who  carry  imper- 
fect bodies,  and  old  age  comes  to  the  strongest  and 
the  fairest,  stealing  away  the  strength  and  touch- 


V 


GLIMPSES  AT  LIFE'S   WINDOWS  63 

ing  the  loveliness,  and  it  fades.  But  the  resurrec- 
tion bodv  will  be  for  ever  free  from  disease  and 
pain.  There  will  be  no  decrepitude,  no  bowed 
forms,  no  pale  cheeks,  no  wasting  or  decay.  How 
pleasant  it  is  to  the  old  to  know  that  they  will  get 
back  their  bodies  with  all  the  marks  of  age  re- 
moved, and  will  begin  life  again  with  all  the  glow 
of  immortal  youth !  I  believe  it  is  Swedenborg 
who  says  that  in  heaven  the  oldest  angels  are  the 
youngest.  A  deep  truth  lies  here.  Not  only  does 
age  leave  no  marks  or  traces  of  wasting,  but  the 
immortal  life  is  a  growth  ever  toward  youth  and 
freshness  of  existence  rather  than  toward  senes- 
cence and  decay. 

There  is  another  bearing  which  the  truth  of 
immortality  must  have  upon  the  life  that  truly 
realizes  it.  It  is  in  the  intensifying  of  all  its  best 
activities  and  powers.  If  there  were  to  be  no  life 
after  this  brief  existence,  why  should  we  deny  our- 
selves and  spend  our  strength  in  serving  others? 
Why  should  we  sacrifice  our  own  ease  and  comfort 
for  the  sake  of  those  who  are  degraded  and  unW'Or- 
thy  ?  How  cold  and  hard  all  duty  seems  without 
this  motive !  But  when  this  truth  of  immortality 
comes  and  touches  these  austere  duties,  how  they 
begin  to  glow  !     The  certainty  of  a  hereafter  brighf 


64  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

with  all  manner  of  rewards  and  joys  is  a  wondrous 
inspiration.     No  matter  that  there  is  no  apparent 
result  when  we  toil   and  sacrifice ;   that  the  word 
we  speak  seems  to  float  away  into  oblivion ;  that 
tlie  impression   we  seek  to  make  on  a  life  fades 
out  while  we  gaze.     Somewhere  in  the  long  years 
to  come  we  shall  find  that  not  the  smallest  deed 
done  for  Ciirist,  or   the  feeblest   word  spoken,  or 
the  faintest  touch  given,  has  been  in  vain.     In  the 
highest  sense — higher  than  the  old  artist  dreamed 
of — do  we  work  for  eternity.     In  a  truer  and  deeper 
way  than  we  know,  and  in  remoter  ages  than  we 
can  count,  shall  we  find  our  songs  from  beginning 
to  end  in  the  hearts  of  our  friends.     In  frescoing, 
when  the  artist  lays  on  his  colors  they  sink  away 
and  leave  no  trace,  but  they  reappear  by  and  by  in 
beauty.     So  we  touch  lives  to-day  and  there  is  no 
impression   that  we   can   see.      The  very  memory 
seems  to  fade  out.     But  in  eternity  it  will  be  man- 
ifest.    The   brightest  clouds  in  the  glowing   west 
lose  their  splendor  while  you  gaze,  but  work  done 
in    human   souls  will    appear    in    unfading    hues, 
brightening  for  ever. 

Thus  the  glimpses  we  get  through  the  little  dim 
windows  in  the  walls  of  our  earthly  life  should 
give  a  new  meaning  to  our  existence  here  and  to 


GLIMPSES  AT  LIFE'S   WINDOWS.  65 

all  our  multiplied  relationships.  With  immortality 
glowiug  before  us,  our  brief  years  on  earth  should 
be  marked  by  earnestness,  reverence,  love  and  faith- 
fulness. Soon  we  shall  break  out  of  our  narrow 
circle  and  traverse  the  boundless  fields  that  we  see 
now  only  in  the  far-away  and  momentary  glimpse. 
But  it  will  be  a  blessed  thing  if  we  can  get  into 
our  hearts  even  here  something  of  the  personal 
consciousness  of  our  immortality,  with  its  limitless 
possessions  and  possibilities,  and  feel  something  in 
our  souls  of  the  power  of  an  endless  life. 

5 


VII. 

THE  MARRIAGE  ALTAR,  AND  AFTER. 

"  In  the  lon^  years  liker  iiinst  they  grow : 
The  man  be  more  of  woman,  she  of  man : 
He  gain  in  sweetness  and  in  moral  height, 
Nor  h)se  the  wrestlinu  iliews  tliat  throw  the  world; 
IShe  mental  breadth,  nor  t;iil  in  cbildward  eare : 
Move  as  the  tlouble-natnred  poet  e.ich 
Till  at  the  last  she  set  herself  to  man 
Like  perfect  music  unto  noble  words." — Longfellow. 

rilHE  preparations  are  all  at  last  made.  The 
-^  bridal  trousseau  is  completed.  The  day  has 
been  fixed.  The  cards  have  gone  out.  The  hour 
comes.  Two  young  hearts  are  throbbing  with  love 
and  joy.  A  brilliant  company,  music,  flowers,  a 
solemn  hush  as  the  happy  pair  approach  the  altar, 
the  repetition  of  the  sacred  words  of  the  marriage 
ceremony,  the  clasping  of  hands,  the  mutual  cov- 
enants and  promises,  the  giving  and  receiving  of 
the  rin^  the  final  "Whom  God  hath  joined  to- 
gether, let  not  man  put  asunder,"  the  prayer  and 
benediction, — and  they  twain  are  one  flesh.     There 


THE  MARRIAGE  ALTAR,  AND  AFTER.      67 

are  tears  and  congratulations,  hurried  good-byes,  a 
bridal  tour,  and  a  new  bark  puts  out  upon  the  sea 
freighted  with  high  hopes.  God  grant  it  may 
never  be  dashed  upon  any  hidden  rock  and 
wrecked ! 

Marriage  is  very  like  the  bringing  together  of 
two  instruments  of  music.  The  first  thing  is  to 
get  them  keyed  to  the  same  pitch.  Before  a  con- 
cert begins  you  hear  the  musicians  striking  chords 
and  keying  their  instruments,  until  at  length  they 
all  perfectly  accord.  Then  they  come  out  and 
play  some  rare  piece  of  music  without  a  discord  or 
ajar  in  any  of  its  parts. 

No  two  lives,  however  thorough  their  former 
acquaintance  may  have  been,  however  long  they 
may  have  moved  together  in  society  or  mingled  in 
the  clovser  and  more  intimate  relations  of  a  ripening 
friendship,  ever  find  themselves  perfectly  in  har- 
mony on  their  marriage-day.  It  is  only  when  that 
mysterious  blending  begins  after  marriage  which 
no  language  can  explain  that  each  finds  so  much 
m  the  other  that  was  never  discovered  before. 
There  are  beauties  and  excellences  that  were  never 
disclosed,  even  to  love's  partial  eye,  in  all  the  days 
of  familiar  intimacy.  There  are  peculiarities  which 
were  never  seen  to  exist  until  tliey  began  to  make 


QS  WEFJK-DAY  RELIGION. 

themselves  manifest  witliin  tlic  veil  of  the  matri- 
monial temple.  There  are  incompatibilities  that 
were  never  dreamed  of  till  they  were  revealed  in 
the  attrition  of  domestic  life.  There  are  faults 
which  neither  even  suspected  in  the  temper  and 
habits  of  the  other. 

Before  marriage  young  people  are  on  their  good 
behavior.  They  do  not  exhibit  their  infirmities. 
Selfishness  is  hidden  under  garments  of  courtesy 
and  gallantry.  Each  forgets  self  in  romantic  de- 
votion to  the  other.  The  voice  is  softened  and 
made  tender,  and  even  tremulous,  by  love.  The 
music  flows  with  a  holy  rhythm  mellowed  by  af- 
fection's gentleness.  Everything  that  would  make 
an  unfavorable  impression  is  scrupulously  put  under 
lock  and  key.  So  there  is  harmony  of  no  ordinary 
sweetness  made  by  the  two  young  lives,  unvexed  by 
one  discordant  note. 

Marriage  is  a  great  mystery.  ^'They  twain  shall 
be  one  flesh"  is  no  mere  figure  of  speech.  Years 
of  closest,  most  familiar,  most  unrestrained  inti- 
macy bring  lives  very  close  together,  but  there  is 
still  a  separating  wall  which  marriage  breaks  down. 
The  two  lives  become  one.  Each  opens  every 
nook,  every  chamber,  every  cranny,  to  the  other. 
There  is  a  mutual  interflow,  life  pouring  into  life 


THE  MARRIAGE  ALTAR,  AND  AFTER.      69 

There  may  have  been  no  intention  on  the  part  of 
either  to  deceive  the  other  in  the  smallest  matter  or 
to  cloak  the  smallest  infirmity.  But  the  disclosure 
could  not,  in  the  very  nature  of  things,  have  been 
any  more  perfect.  Each  stood  in  the  vestibule  of 
a  house,  or  at  the  most  sat  in  its  parlor,  never  en- 
tering any  other  apartment.  Now  the  whole  house 
is  thrown  open,  and  many  hitherto  unsuspected 
things  are  seen. 

Too  often  the  restraint  seems  to  fall  off  when 
the  matrimonial  chain  is  riveted.  No  effort  is 
longer  made  to  curb  the  bad  tempers  and  evil 
propensities.  The  delicate  robe  of  politeness  is 
torn  away,  and  many  a  rudeness  appears.  It  seems 
to  be  considered  no  longer  necessary  to  continue 
the  old  thoughtful ness.  Selfishness  begins  to  assert 
itself  The  sweet  amenities  of  the  wooing-days 
are  laid  aside,  and  the  result  is  unhappiness.  Many 
a  young  bride  cries  herself  sick  half  a  score  of 
times  before  she  has  been  a  month  a  bride,  and 
wishes  she  were  back  in  the  bright,  happy  home 
of  her  youth.  Oftentimes  both  the  newly-wedded 
pair  become  discouraged  and  think  in  their  hearts 
that  they  have  made  a  mistake. 

And  yet  there  is  really  no  reason  for  discourage- 
ment.     The   marriage   may  yet  be  made   happy. 


70  WEEK-DAY  liELiaiON. 

There  is  need  only  for  large  and  wise  patience. 
The  two  lives  require  only  to  be  brought  into 
harmony,  and  lovers  sweetest  music  will  flow  from 
two  hearts  in  tender  unison.  But  there  are  several 
rules  which  must  always  be  remembered  and  ob- 
served. 

Why,  for  instance,  should  either  party,  after  the 
wedding-day,  cease  to  observe  all  the  sweet  coui*te- 
sies,  little  refinements  and  charming  amenities  of 
the  courtship-days?  AVhy  should  a  man  be  polite 
all  day  to  every  one  he  meets — even  to  the  porter 
in  his  store,  and  the  bootblack  or  newsboy  on  the 
street — and  then  less  polite  to  her  who  meets  him 
at  his  door  with  yearning  heart  hungry  for  ex- 
pressions of  love?  If  things  have  gone  wrong 
with  him  all  day,  why  should  he  carry  his  gloom 
to  his  home  to  darken  the  joy  of  his  wife's  tender 
heart?  ,  Or  why  should  the  woman  who  used  to 
be  all  smiles  and  beauty  and  adornment  and  per- 
fume when  her  lover  came,  meet  her  husband  now 
with  disheveled  hair,  soiled  dress,  slatternly  man- 
ner and  face  all  frowns?  Why  should  there  not 
be  a  resolute  continuance  of  the  old  politeness  and 
mutual  desire  to  please  which  made  the  wooing- 
days  so  sunny? 

Then  love  must  be  lifted  up  out  of  the  realm 


THE  MARRIAGE  ALTAR,  AND  AFTER.      71 

of  the  passions  and  senses  and  spiritualized.  There 
should  be  converse  on  the  higher  themes  of  life. 
Many  persons  are  married  only  at  one  or  two 
points.  Their  natures  know  but  the  lower  forms 
of  pleasure  and  fellowship.  They  never  commune 
on  any  topic  but  the  most  earthy.  Their  intel- 
lectual parts  have  no  fellowship.  They  never  read 
nor  converse  together  on  elevated  themes.  There 
is  no  commingling  of  mind  with  mind  :  they  are 
dead  to  each  other  in  that  higher  reH:ion.  Then 
still  fewer  are  wedded  in  their  highest,  their  spirit- 
ual natures.  The  number  is  small  of  those  who 
commune  together  concerning  the  things  of  God, 
the  soul's  holiest  interests  and  the  realities  of  eter- 
nity. No  marriage  is  complete  which  does  not 
unite  and  blend  the  wedded  lives  at  every  point. 
Husband  and  wife  should  be  such  along  their 
whole  nature. 

This  implies  that  they  should  read  and  study 
together,  having  the  same  line  of  thought,  help- 
ing each  other  toward  higher  mental  culture.  It 
implies  also  that  they  should  worship  together, 
communing  with  one  another  upon  the  holiest 
themes  of  life  and  hope.  Together  they  should 
bow  in  prayer,  and  together  work  in  antici- 
pation of  the  same  blessed  home  beyond  this  life 


72  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

of  toil  and  care.  I  can  conceive  of  no  true  and 
perfect  marriage  whose  deepest  joy  does  not  lie 
forward  in  the  life  to  come. 

Perfect  mutual  confidence  is  an  element  of  every 
complete  marriage.  Husband  and  wife  should  live 
but  one  life,  sharing  all  of  each  other's  cares,  joys, 
sorrows  and  hopes.  There  siiould  not  be  a  corner 
in  the  nature  and  occupation  of  either  which  is 
not  open  to  the  other.  The  moment  a  man  has 
to  begiji  to  shut  his  wife  out  from  any  chapters 
of  his  daily  life  he  is  in  peril,  and  in  like  man- 
ner her  whole  life  should  be  open  to  him.  There 
should  be  a  flowino-  to^-ether  of  heart  and  soul  in 
close  communion  and  perfect  confidence.  No  dis- 
cord can  end  in  harm  while  there  is  such  mutual 
intersphering  of  liv^es  and  such  interflowing  of  souls. 

Once  more,  no  third  party  should  ever  be  taken 
into  this  holy  of  holies.  No  matter  who  it  is — 
the  sweetest,  gentlest,  dearest,  wisest  mother,  the 
purest,  truest,  tenderest  sister,  the  best,  the  loyal- 
est  friend — no  one  but  God  should  ever  be  per- 
mitted to  know  aught  of  the  secret,  sacred  mar- 
ried life  that  they  twain  are  living.  This  is  one 
of  those  relations  with  which  no  stranger,  though 
he  be  the  closest  bosom  friend,  should  intermed- 
dle.    Any  alien  touch  is  sure  to  leave  a  blight. 


THE  MARRIAGE  ALTAR,  AND  AFTER.      73 

There  are  certain  influences  that  bring  out  all 
the  warmth  and  tenderness  needed  to  make  any 
niarriage  very  happy.  When  one  is  sick,  how  gen- 
tle and  thoughtful  it  makes  the  other !  J^Tot  a  want 
or  wish  is  left  unsupplied.  All  the  heart's  aifec- 
tions — long  slumbering,  perhaps — are  awakened 
and  become  intent  on  most  kindly  ministry.  No 
service  is  thought  a  hardship  now  or  done  with 
any  show  of  reluctance.  There  is  not  a  breath 
or  look  of  impatience.  Love  flows  out  in  tone 
and  look  and  word  and  act.  There  is  an  inex- 
pressible tenderness  in  all  the  bearing.  Even  the 
coldest  natures  become  gentle  in  the  sick-room, 
and  the  rudest,  harshest  manners  become  soft  and 
warm  at  the  touch  of  suffering  in  the  beloved  one. 
Or  let  death  come  to  either,  and  what  an  awaken- 
ing there  is  of  all  that  is  holiest  and  tenderest  and 
sweetest  in  the  heart  of  the  other!  If  the  dead 
could  be  recalled  and  the  wedded  life  resumed, 
would  it  not  be  a  thousand  times  more  loving  than 
ever  it  was  before  ?  Would  there  be  any  more  the 
old  impatience,  the  old  selfishness?  Would  there 
not  be  the  fullest  sympathy,  the  largest  forbear- 
ance, the  warmest  outflow  of  the  heart's  most 
kindlv  feelino^s? 

And  why  may  not  married  life  be  lived  day  by 


t4  ]vej:k-da  y  religion. 

day  iind  I*  the  power  of  this  wondrous  influonce? 
AV  liv  wait  for  sufferincr  in  the  one  we  love  to  thaw 
out  the  lieart's  tenderness,  to  melt  the  icy  chill 
of  neglect  and  indifference,  and  to  produce  in  us 
the  summer  fruits  of  affection  ?  Why  w'ait  for 
death  to  come  to  reveal  the  beauty  of  the  plain 
and  liomelv  life  that  moves  bv  our  side  and  dis- 
close  the  value  of  the  blessings  it  enfolds  for  us? 
Why  should  we  only  learn  to  appreciate  and  prize 
love's  splendors  and  its  sweetness  as  it  vanishes 
out  of  our  sight?  Very  sadly — and  yet  how  truth- 
fully!— has  one  sung: 

"  And  she  is  gone,  sweet  human  love  is  gone ! 
'Tis  only  when  they  spring  to  heaven  that  angels 
Reveal  themselves  to  you;  they  sit  all  day 
Beside  you  and  lie  down  at  night  by  you, 
Who  care  not  for  their  presence — muse  or  sleep; 
And  all  at  once  they  leave  you.     Then  you  know  them! 
We  are  so  fooled,  so  cheated !" 

But  why  should  the  empty  chair  be  the  first  re- 
vealer  of  the  real  worth  of  those  who  havfe  walked 
so  close  to  us?  Why  should  sorrow  over  our  loss 
be  the  first  influence  to  draw  from  our  hearts  the 
tenderness  and  the  wealth  of  kindly  ministries  that 
lie  pent  up  in  them  all  the  while?  Surely,  wedded 
life  should  call  out  all  that  is  richest,  truest,  ten- 
derest,  most  inspiring  and  most  helpful  in  the  life 


THE  MARRIAGE  ALTAR,  AND  AFTER.      75 

of  each.  This  is  the  true  ideal  of  Christian  mar- 
riage. Its  love  is  to  be  like  that  of  Christ  and  his 
Church.  It  should  not  wait  for  the  agony  of  suf- 
fering or  the  pang  of  separation  to  draw  out  its 
tenderness,  but  should  fill  all  its  days  and  nights 
with  unvexed  sweetness. 

There  are  many  such  marriages.  Few  more 
beautiful  pictures  of  wedded  love  were  ever  un- 
veiled than  that  which  was  lived  out  in  the  home 
of  Cliarles  Kingsley.  His  wife  closes  her  loving 
memoir  with  these  words :  "  The  outside  world 
must  judge  him  as  an  author,  a  preacher^  a  mem- 
ber of  society,  but  those  only  who  lived  with  him 
in  the  intimacy  of  every-day  life  at  home  can  tell 
what  he  was  as  a  man.  Over  the  real  romance 
of  his  life  and  over  the  tenderest,  loveliest  passages 
in  his  private  letters  a  veil  must  be  thrown,  but  it 
will  not  be  lifting  it  too  far  to  say  that  if  in  the 
highest,  closest  of  earthly  relationships  a  love  that 
never  failed — pure,  patient,  passionate — for  six-and- 
thirty  years,  a  love  which  never  stooped  from  its 
own  lofty  level  to  a  hasty  word,  an  impatient  ges- 
ture or  a  selfish  act,  in  sickness  or  in  health,  in 
sunshine  or  in  storm,  by  day  or  by  night,  could 
prove  that  the  age  of  chivalry  has  not  passed  away 
for  ever,  then  Charles  Kinirslev  fulfilled  the  ideal 

/  C>  J 


76  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

of  a  *  most  true  and  perfect  knight '  to  the  one 
woman  blest  with  that  love  in  time  and  to  eter- 
nity. To  eternity,  for  such  love  is  eternal,  and 
he  is  not  dead.  He  himself,  the  man,  the  lover, 
husband,  father,  friend — he  still  lives  in  God,  who 
is  not  the  God  of  the  dead,  but  of  the  living." 
And  why  should  not  every  marriage  in  Christ 
realize  all  that  lies  in  this  picture?  It  is  possible, 
and  yet  only  noble  manhood  and  womanhood,  with 
truest  views  of  marriage  and  inspired  by  the  holi- 
est love,  can  realize  it. 


VIII. 

RELIGION  IN  THE  HOME. 

"  Sweet  are  the  joys  of  home, 
And  pure  as  sweet;  for  they, 
Like  dews  of  morn  and  evening,  come 
To  make  and  close  the  day," 


1% /rUCH  is  said  and  written  of  religion  in  the 
-^'-'"  home,  and  yet  it  may  be  that  there  is  not 
always  a  clear  conception  of  the  meaning  of  the 
term.  It  is  sometimes  supposed  that  the  re- 
quirement is  fully  met  when  family  devotions  are 
regularly  maintained.  This  is  of  vital  importance. 
Household  religion  certainly  implies  the  daily 
family  worship.  I  cannot  think  that  any  home 
realizes  the  true  ideal  or  can  have  Heaven's  richest 
benedictions  upon  it  in  which  this  is  omitted  or 
neglected.  God  blesses  and  shelters  the  household 
in  which  he  is  honored.  Prayer  weaves  a  roof  of 
love  over  the  home  and  builds  walls  of  protection 
about  it. 

Surely  the  goodness  of  a  thoughtful  Providence, 

77 


78  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

received  day  after  day  in  unbroken  continuity, 
requires  some  grateful  recognition  of  praise.  Then 
is  it  not  a  perilous  thing  for  the  members  of  the 
household  to  disperse  in  the  morning  to  their 
duties  and  responsibilities,  into  dangers  and  temp- 
tations, to  meet  possible  trials,  without  the  invoking 
of  Heaven's  guidance,  protection  and  help?  There 
is  reason  to  fear  that  in  many  homes  fajnily  wor- 
ship is  neglected,  and  that  in  the  intense  whirl  and 
excitement  of  these  busy  times  the  neglect  is  be- 
coming more  and  more  common.  How  can  we 
expect  God's  blessing  upon  our  homes  if  we  do 
not  call  upon  his  name?  Is  it  any  wonder  that 
there  is  sorrow  over  children's  wanderings  in  the 
households  in  which  there  is  no  family  altar  ? 

There  is  a  wondrous  educating  influence  in  the 
daily  assemblage  of  the  family  for  prayer.  Where 
through  childhood  and  youth  the  custom  has  been 
regularly  maintained,  its  influence  over  the  life  is 
such  as  can  never  be  wholly  obliterated.  And  it 
may  be  seriously  questioned  whether  in  any  other 
way,  by  any  other  means,  children  can  be  so  firmly 

"  Bound  by  gold  chains  about  the  feet  of  God." 

The  memories  of  the  old  family  altar,  waked 
years  and  years  after  the  home  walls  had  crumbled 


RELIGION  IN  THE  HOME.  79 

and  the  home  voices  had  become  silent,  have  led 
many  a  wanderer  back  to  God^s  feet. 

Then  there  is  nothing  else  that  so  sweetens  the 
home-life.  True  family  worship  is  a  fountain  that 
brings  streams  of  holy  influences  into  every  part  of 
the  household.  It  is  a  vase  of  perfume  that  sheds 
fragrance  over  all.  It  softens  asperities.  It  quells 
anger.  It  quiets  impatience.  It  settles  differences. 
It  subdues  evil  passions.  Hearts  that  are  drawn 
together  at  God's  feet  every  day  cannot  get  very 
fur  apart.  The  frictions  of  the  day  are  forgotten 
when  all  voices  mingle  in  the  same  heavenly  song. 
As  the  tender  words  of  inspiration  fall  with  their 
beniy^n  counsels  all  feeling;  of  unkindness  melts 
away.  The  altar  in  the  midst  wondrously  hallows 
and  sweetens  the  home  fellowship.  Besides,  it 
})uts  new  strength  into  every  heart.  It  comforts 
sorrow.  It  is  a  shield  against  temptation.  It 
smoothes  out  the  wrinkles  of  care.  It  inspires 
strength  for  burden-bearing.  It  quickens  every 
religious  sentiment  and  keeps  the  iires  burning  on 
every  hearths  altar. 

The  manner  in  which  the  family  worship  is  con- 
ducted is  very  important.  It  should  be  made  so 
},)leasant  as  to  be  looke<l  forward  to  with  gladness 
eveti   by  the  youngest  children.      Too   often   it  is 


80  WEKKDAY  RELIGION. 

made  tedious,  monotonous  or  burdensome.  Men  fall 
into  a  stereotyped  order  whicih  they  never  vary. 
Long  passages  are  read,  and  the  prayers  ofFered 
are  not  only  long,  but  are  the  same  every  day  from 
year  to  year,  with  no  ada{)tation  to  the  home-liie, 
or  to  the  capacities  of  children.  There  is  no  reason 
why  the  family  worship  should  not  be  the  most  de- 
lightful exercise  in  the  home-life.  It  should  be  the 
continual  study  of  heads  of  households  to  make  it 
bright,  interesting  and  profitable.  To  make  it  dull 
and  irksome  is  treason  to  true  religion.  It  is  im- 
possible to  give  more  than  the  merest  suggestions 
and  hints  as  to  methods.  A  part  in  the  service 
should  be  given  to  each  child.  Questions  may  be 
asked  each  day  on  the  passage  read  the  day  before. 
Incidents  may  be  introduced  to  illustrate  the  lesson. 
Hard  words  may  be  explained.  One  practical 
thought  at  least  may  be  selected  from  the  Scrip- 
ture read  which  will  bear  upon  the  day's  life. 
Cheerful  songs  may  be  sung.  Then  in  the  prayer 
some  part  should  be  given  to  the  little  ones. 
Sometimes  it  is  good  to  have  all  follow  in  the 
prayer,  repeating  it  phrase  after  phrase.  And  all 
may  unite  in  the  Lord's  Prayer  at  the  close. 
When  there  are  quite  young  children  in  the  family, 
it  may  not  be  best  to  read  the  Bible  in  course,  but 


RELIGION  IN  THE  HOME.  81 

to  select  portions  in  wliich  they  will  be  easily  in- 
terested. For  an  exercise  so  sacred  and  fraught 
with  such  influences  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that 
the  most  careful  preparation  should  be  made.  It 
is  probable  tluit  there  are  few  duties  for  which  so 
little  preparation  is  actually  made.  If  thought 
were  given  to  this  matter  beforehand,  the  exercise 
need  never  be  dull  or  wearisome.  The  passage 
may  not  only  be  selected,  but  studied  and  some 
point  fixed  upon  for  practical  enforcement.  A 
bright  incident  or  little  story  may  be  ready  to  help 
to  fix  the  lesson.  The  prayer  may  be  thought  over 
or  even  written  out.  A  few  minutes  given  every 
day  to  preparation  for  family  worship  will  serve 
to  make  it,  as  it  should  be,  the  most  pleasant  and 
attractiv'e  incident  of  the  day. 

But  while  family  religion  implies  regular  devo- 
tions, there  is  something  else  required.  There  are 
homes  in  which  family  worship  is  never  neglected 
in  which  there  is  yet  a  painful  absence  of  home 
religion.  Religion  is  love,  and  a  religious  home  is 
one  in  which  love  reigns.  There  must  be  love  in 
action,  love  that  flows  out  in  all  the  home  inter- 
course, showing  itself  in  a  thousand  little  expres- 
sions of  thoughtfulness,  kindness,  unselfishness  and 
gentle  courtesy.     There  are  homes  in  which  there 


82  WEEK-DAY  REUGION. 

is  truest  love.  The  members  of  the  houseliold 
woiilfl  irive  their  lives  for  each  other.  When 
grief  or  pain  comes  to  any  one  of  them,  the  hearts 
of  all  the  others  are  touched  and  at  once  go  out  in 
deepest  sympathy,  in  warmest  ex])ressions  of  affec- 
tion and  in  self-forgetful  ministries.  There  is  no 
question  as  to  the  reality  and  the  strength  of  the 
attachment  that  mutually  exists  between  the  hearts 
of  the  household.  And  yet  in  their  ordinary  as- 
so(;iations  there  is  a  great  lack  of  those  exhibitions 
of  kindly  feeling  which  are  the  sweetest  charm  of 
love.  There  is  a  lack  of  tender  words.  Husband 
and  wife  pass  week  after  week  without  one  harsh 
word,  it  may  be,  but  also  without  one  of  those  en- 
dejiring  expressions  such  as  made  their  early  love- 
davs  sosunnv  nnd  radiant.  And  the  interooui-se  of 
the  whole  liou>ehold  is  c^luu-acterized  by  the  same  lack 
of  warmtii  and  tenderness.  The  conversation  is 
about  the  most  commonplace  matters,  is  often  con- 
strained, and  in  many  cases  consists  only  of  occa- 
sional monosyllables.  ^Many  a  meal  is  eaten  almost 
in  silence.  The  tone  of  the  home- life  is  cold. 
All  sentiment  is  avoided,  no  compliments  are 
uttered.  Even  the  simplest  courtesies  of  manner 
are  often  neglected.  Favors  are  asked,  given  and 
accepted  without  one  of  those  sweetening  graces  of 


RELIGION  IN  THE  HOME.  83 

politeness  which  we  are  all  so  careful  to  observe  in 
our  intercourse  with  strangers,  and  which  add  so 
much  to  the  pleasure  of  such  intercourse. 

Sorrow  falls  upon  one  of  the  family,  and  imme- 
diately all  is  changed.  The  coldness  of  manner 
passes  into  tenderness.  This  proves  the  reality 
and  power  of  the  family  bond.  But  ought  the 
love  to  be  so  locked  up  and  hidden  away  in  the 
crannies  of  the  heart  and  in  the  inner  recesses 
of  the  nature  as  to  require  affliction  or  sorrow  to 
call  it  out  ?  Should  not  love  celebrate  its  sweetest 
summer  all  the  while  in  the  home?  Should  it 
require  calamity  or  pain  to  woo  out  its  fragrance 
and  its  beauty? 

What  a  wondrous  charm  it  gives  to  family-life 
when  all  the  members  let  their  hearts'  love  flow 
out  in  all  those  tender  graces  of  expression  which 
have  so  much  power  to  give  joy !  There  are  such 
homes.  The  very  atmosphere,  as  you  enter  the 
door,  seems  laden  with  fragrance.  The  rarest 
courtesy  marks  all  the  intercourse  of  the  family. 
Each  one  is  thoughtful  of  the  other's  comfort  and 
pleasure.  No  harsh  word  is  spoken.  The  con- 
versation at  table  flows  on  in  musical  sw^eetness, 
bright,  sparkling  and  cheerful,  without  one  jar. 
There  is  no  sullen  look  on  any  face.     There  is  no 


84  WEEK-DA  Y  RELIGION. 

disregard  of  politeness.     There  is  no  laying  aside 
of  good  manners. 

But  there  are  many  who  are  amiable  and  ])olite 
away  fi-om  home  who  are  not  so  in  the  sacredness 
of  their  own  honsehold.  There  are  men  who  in 
society  are  courteous,  thoughtful  and  gracious  who 
when  they  enter  their  own  doors  become  gruff, 
moody,  and  even  rude.  There  are  ladies  who  are 
the  brightest  charm  of  the  social  circle,  sunny, 
sparkling,  thoughtful,  who  as  they  cross  their  own 
thresholds  are  suddenly  transformed,  becoming 
disagreeable,  petulant,  impatient,  irritable  and  un- 
lovely. Some  of  the  most  brilliant  lights  of  soci- 
ety are  the  most  unendurable  at  home.  They  keep 
their  courtly  manners  for  company,  and  relapse 
into  barbarism  when  in  the  shelter  of  their  own 
roof-tree.  They  have  "careful  thought  for  the 
stranger,'^  but  for  their  "own  the  bitter  tone." 

JSTow,  it  need  not  be  said  that  the  most  unbroken 
continuity  in  family  devotions  will  not  make  such 
home-life  religious.  A  true  Christian  home  is  one 
in  whose  holy  circle  all  live  the  religion  of  Christ. 
We  should  be  just  as  sunny  inside  our  own  doors 
as  on  the  street.  Courtesy  that  changes  to  rude- 
ness when  we  cross  our  own  threshold  is  no  cour- 
tesy at  all.     Love  that  beareth  all  things,  endureth 


RELIGION  IN  THE  HOME.  85 

all  things  and  seeketh  not  its  own  must  not  turn 
to  petulance  and  selfishness  at  home.  We  should 
appear  always  at  our  best  among  those  we  love  the 
best.  We  ought  to  bring  the  sweetest  things  of 
our  hearts  into  our  homes. 

Yet  there  are  tendencies  to  careless  living  at 
home  against  which  we  need  to  guard  ourselves 
very  carefully.  Sacred  as  are  the  home  relation- 
ships, our  very  familiarity  with  them  is  apt  to 
render  us  forgetful.  Incessant  repetitions  of  im- 
pressions of  any  kind  are  in  danger  of  producing 
callousness  of  sensibility.  In  the  constant  con- 
tact of  the  home-loves  lies  the  danger  that  we 
become  heedless  of  them.  It  takes  special  care 
and  watchfulness  and  continual  quickening  of  the 
affections  to  keep  our  hearts'  sensibilities  always 
alive  to  the  unbroken  touch  of  the  tender  relation- 
ships of  home.  Then  outside  we  have  to  be  ever 
on  our  guard.  The  world  has  no  patience  with 
our  ill-temper  and  bad  manners.  A  moment's 
petulance,  a  single  gruff  reply  or  uncivil  word, 
or  the  want  of  courtesy  in  the  smallest  thing, 
may  cost  us  a  friend  or  lose  us  a  customer  or 
mar  our  reputation.  Hence  we  have  the  constant 
pressure  of  these  selfish  motives  to  compel  us  to 
appear  always  at  our  best  in  society. 


8(3  weJ':k-ijay  religion. 

But  at  home  this  pressure  is  romovcd.  We  are 
sure  of  the  hearts  there.  They  have  patience  with 
us.  Their  love  is  not  of  the  fickle  and  uncertain 
kind  that  requires  continuous  propitiation.  We 
have  no  fear  of  losing  their  esteem  or  regard.  In 
our  heedless  selfishness  we  are  in  constant  danger, 
when  we  enter  the  home-shelter  after  the  stress 
of  the  day,  of  removing  the  restraint  and  permit- 
ting our  least  amiable  self  to  come  to  the  outside. 

There  is  still  another  reason  why  peculiar  watch- 
fulness over  the  home-behavior  is  necessary.  In 
the  outside  world  the  contact  of  life  with  life  is 
usually  at  a  reasonable  distance.  We  do  not  get 
very  close  to  men.  We  see  only  their  best  points. 
We  meet  them  only  in  favorable  circumstances, 
and  are  not  compelled  to  endure  the  friction  of 
actual  contact  with  their  meaner  qualities.  But 
that  which  makes  home-intercourse  the  sorest  test 
of  piety  and  of  character  is  its  closeness.  Lives 
touch  there  at  every  point.  The  very  unrestraint, 
laying  all  lives  bare  to  each  other,  adds  immeas- 
urably to  the  danger  of  friction.  Nothing  but 
the  religion  of  Christ,  the  lov^e  that  endureth  all 
things,  is  equal  to  the  strain  of  such  experiences. 


IX. 

THE  MINISTRY  OF  SORROW. 

"'Tis  sorrow  builds  the  shining  ladder  np 
Whose  golden  rounds  are  our  calamities, 
Whereon,  our  firm  feet  planting,  nearer  God 
The  spirit  climbs  and  hath  its  eyes  unsealed." 

A  BOOK  that  treats  even  fragmentarily  of 
•^■^  Christian  culture  would  be  incomplete  with- 
out a  chapter  on  the  ministry  of  sorrow,  for  this 
is  an  experience  through  which  sooner  or  later 
every  life  must  pass.  It  is  part  of  the  earthly 
education  for  the  heavenly  glory.  Our  Lord  him- 
self passed  this  way  before  us  and  was  made  per- 
fect through  suffering,  and  it  is  also  ordained  for 
us,  his  followers,  that  through  much  tribulation 
we  must  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

They  are  only  the  very  young  who  know  noth- 
ing as  yet  of  the  liturgy  of  grief.  To  them  the 
language  of  sorrow  is  an  unknown  tongue,  and  the 
consolations  of  the  Scriptures  seem  written  in  pale 

or  invisible  ink.     But  it  will  not  long  be  so.     Th^ 

87 


88  WEKK-DAl'  RKLKilOS. 

years  will  l)riiig  griefs  to  them,  and  under  their 
liot  fianies  the  comforts  of  religion  will  glow  upon 
the  inspired  page  as  no  other  words  do.  The  rail- 
way-officials passed  through  our  train  at  midday 
and  lighted  the  lamps.  The  passengers  could  not 
understand  why  it  was  done.  How  j)ale  the  lights 
seemed  in  the  blaze  of  noon  !  But  soon  we  plunged 
into  a  long  tunnel,  into  pitchy  darkness.  How 
brightly  then  the  beams  shone  down  upon  us ! 
and  how  grateful  we  all  were  for  the  lamps !  So 
the  lamps  of  comfort  which  God  hangs  about  our 
hearts  in  our  sunny  youth,  and  which  seem  to  us 
so  dim  and  so  without  a  purpose  while  there  is  no 
break  in  our  joy,  will  burst  into  heavenly  bright- 
ness when  the  darkness  thickens  about  us.  AYhat 
shall  we  then  do  if  none  of  these  lamps  of  conso- 
lation are  ready  lighted  in  our  hearts? 

The  mini  tries  of  sorrow  for  the  Christian  are 
manifold.  Blighthig  the  joys  of  earth  on  which 
he  had  set  his  heart,  il  turns  his  eye  toward  the 
things  that  are  unseen  and  eternal.  There  are 
many  who  never  saw  Christ  until  the  light  of 
some  tender  beauty  faded  before  them,  and,  looking 
up  in  the  darkness,  they  beheld  that  blessed  face 
beaming  down  upon  them  in  divine  gentleness 
and  love. 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  SORROW.  89 

"Through  the  clouded  glass 
Of  our  own  bitter  tears  we  learn  to  look 
Undazzled  on  the  kindness  of  God's  face : 
Earth  is  too  dark,  and  heaven  alone  shines  through." 

Many  of  the  sweetest  joys  of  Christian  hearts 
are  songs  which  have  been  learned  in  the  bitterness 
of  trial.  A  story  is  told  of  ^^a  little  bird  that  will 
never  learn  to  sing;  the  song;  his  master  will  have 
him  sincr  while  his  cas-e  is  full  of  liorht.  He 
listens  and  learns  a  snatch  of  this,  a  trill  of  that, 
a  polyglot  of  all  the  songs  in  the  grove,  but  never 
a  separate  and  entire  melody  of  his  own.  But  the 
master  covers  his  cage  and  makes  it  dark  all  about 
him,  and  then  he  listens  and  listens  to  the  one  song 
he  is  to  sing,  and  tries  and  tries,  and  tries  again, 
until  at  last  his  heart  is  full  of  it.  And  then,  when 
lie  has  c.iught  thvi  melody,  the  cage  is  uncovered,  and 
he  .^ings  it  sweetly  ever  after  in  the  light." 

It  is  often  with  our  hearts  as  with  the  bird. 
The  Master  has  a  song  to  teach  us,  but  we  learn 
only  a  strain  of  it,  a  note  here  and  there,  while  we 
catch  up  snatches  of  earth's  music,  the  workVs  songs, 
and  sing  them  with  it.  Then  he  comes  and  makes 
it  dark  about  us  till  we  learn  the  sweet  song  he 
would  teacli  us.  And,  having  once  learned  it  in 
the  deep  shadows,  we  continue  to  sing  it  afterward, 


90  WEHK-DA  Y  RKL  K  HON. 

even  in  the  brightest  day  of  earthly  joy.  Many 
of  the  loveliest  songs  of  peace  and  trnst  and  hope 
which  God^s  children  sinu:  in  this  world  thev  have 
been  taught  in  the  hushed  and  darkened  chambers 
of  sorrow. 

In  like  manner,  many  of  the  rarest  beauties  of 
character  are  touches  given  by  the  divine  Spirit  in 
the  hours  of  affliction.  Many  a  Christian  enters  a 
sore  trial,  cold,  worldly,  unspiritual,  with  all  the 
better  and  more  tender  qualities  of  his  nature 
locked  up  in  his  heart  like  the  beauty  and  fra- 
grance in  the  bare  and  jagged  tree  in  January  ;  but 
he  comes  out  of  it  with  gentle  spirit,  mellowed, 
richened  and  sweetened,  and  with  all  the  fragrant 
graces  pouring  their  perfume  about  him.  Tiie 
])h()tographer  carries  his  picture  back  into  a  dark- 
ened room  that  he  may  bring  out  its  features. 
The  light  would  mar  his  delicate  work.  God 
brings  out  in  many  a  soul  its  loveliest  beauties 
while  the  curtain  is  drawn  and  the  light  of  day 
shut  out.  The  darkness  does  not  tell  of  anger : 
it  is  only  the  shadow  of  the  wing  of  divine  love 
folded  close  over  us  for  a  little,  while  the  Master 
adds  some  new  touch  of  loveliness  to  the  picture 
he  is  bringing  out  in  our  souls. 

Afflictions,    sanctified,    soften    the    asperities    of 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  SORROW.  91 

life.      They  tame  the  wildness  of  nature.      They     • 
temper    human    ambitions.      They   burn    out    the 
dross  of  selfishness  and  worldliness.     They  hum- 
ble  pride.     They  quell  fierce  passion^'.     They  re- 
veal to  men  their  own  hearts,  their  own  weaknesses, 
faults,  blemishes  and  perils.     They  teach  patience 
and    submission.      They   disciple    unruly   spirits. 
They  deepen  and  enrich  our  experiences.     Plough- 
ing the  hard  soil  and  cutting  long  and  deep  furrows 
in  the  heart,  the  heavenly  Sower  follows,  and  fruits 
of  righteousness  spring  up.     It  has  been  said  that 
"  the  last,  best  fruit  which  comes  to  late  perfection, 
even  in  the  kindliest  soul,  is  tenderness  toward  the 
hard,  forbearance  toward  the  unforbearing,  warmth 
of  heart  toward  the  cold,  and  philanthropy  toward 
the  misanthropic."     But  there  is  no  influence  under 
which  these  late  fruits  ripen  so  quickly  as  under 
the  power  of  sorrow.     It  makes  us  gentle  toward 
all.      It  softens  every  harsh  feeling  and  fills  the 
heart  with    tender   sympathy,  kindly  charity  and 
benevolent  dispositions.      Many  a   home   is  saved 
from  wreck   by  a  sorrow  that  comes   and    draws 
estranged   hearts   close   together   again.      Many  a 
cold,  icy  nature  is  made  warm  and  tender  by  the 
grief  that  crushes  it. 

Then  sorrow  cuts  the  chains  that  bind  us  to  this 


92  WJJEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

earthly  life  and  scnrls  us  out  to  sea  on  voyages  of 
new  discovery.  It  opens  windows  in  our  poor 
})rison-life  here  through  which  we  get  glimpses  of 
the  better  things  of  immortality  and  glory. 

Especially  is  this  true  of  the  loss  of  friends  by 
death.  We  live  absorbed  in  the  earthly  life  about 
us,  thinking  of  no  other,  our  eyes  fixed  on  the 
dusty  soil  at  our  feet  and  not  seeing  the  radiant 
heavens  that  glow  and  shine  above  our  heads. 
Then  suddenly  one  whom  we  love  is  plucked  away 
from  our  side,  and  for  the  first  time  we  begin  to 
look  up  and  to  obtain  glimpses  of  the  invisible  and 
eternal  things  of  the  life  above  and  bevond  us. 
Thus  viewed  from  any  side,  affliction  appears  as  a 
messenger  of  God  sent  to  minister  to  us  in  the 
truest  way.  As  one  has  beautifully  written  of 
sorrow, 

"  I  turned  and  clasped  her  close  with  sudden  strength, 
And  slowly,  sweetly,  I  became  aware 
"Within  my  arms  God's  angel  stood  at  length. 

While-robed  and  calm  and  fair. 
'Look  thou  beyond  the  evening  sky,'  she  said, 
'  Beyond  the  changing  splendors  of  the  day, 
Accept  the  pain,  the  weariness,  the  dread — 
Accept,  and  bid  me  stay.' " 

God  is  the  Comforter.  He  has  put  up  the 
bowers  and  opened  the  springs  of  comfort  in    al- 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  SORROW.  93 

most  every  page  of  his  word.  At  the  head  of 
almost  every  chapter  an  angel  seems  to  stand  cry- 
ing, "  Comfort  ye,  comfort  ye  my  people,  saith  your 
God."  There  is  no  darkness  that  gathers  about 
any  of  God's  children  into  which  he  does  not  send 
some  beams  of  brightness. 

One  dark  and  dreary  winter  day  I  sat  in  my 
study  thinking  what  I  should  say  to  my  people  on 
the  Sabbath.  The  sky  had  been  heavily  overcast 
all  the  morning.  But  suddenly  there  was  a  little 
rift  in  the  clouds,  and  a  few  sunbeams  fell  on  my 
window.  As  the  brightness  flowed  in  I  raised  my 
eyes,  and  there,  on  the  wall,  was  a  little  bit  of  as 
glorious  rainbow  as  ever  I  saw.  There  was  some 
peculiar  formation  in  the  glass  of  the  window-pane 
which  acted  as  a  perfect  prism,  disentangling  and 
unsnarling  the  white  beam  and  spreading  its  bril- 
liant threads  in  rich  display  upon  the  plastered 
wall  of  the  room.  So  there  is  no  life  of  Christian 
disciple,  however  dark  and  full  of  cares  and  grief, 
into  which  God  does  not  at  some  hour  of  each  day 
pour  a  little  at  least  of  the  splendor  of  heaven. 
The  trouble  is  that  we  shut  our  eves  to  the  com- 
fort  and  will  not  look  upon  it.  We  see  all  the 
clouds  and  sit  in  the  darkness,  beholding  not  the 
sunbeams  and  the  bits   of  rainbow  that  our  Fa- 


y^  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

ther  sends  into  our  lives  to  briiiliten  and  illumine 
til  em. 

There  is  a  picture  of  a  woman  .seated  on  the  low 
rocks,  looking  out  upon  a  wild  sea  down  into  which 
the  treasures  of  her  heart  have  gone.  Her  face  is 
stony  with  hopeless,  despairing  grief.  Almost 
touching  the  black  robe  of  the  mourner,  hovering 
over  her  shoulder,  is  the  shadowy  form  of  an  angel 
softly  touching  the  strings  of  a  harp.  But  she  is 
unaware  of  the  angel's  nearness,  nor  does  she  hear 
a  note  of  the  celestial  music.  She  bows  in  dumb 
unconsciousness,  with  breaking  heart  and  unsoothed 
sorrow,  while  the  heavenly  consolation  is  so  close. 
Thus  many  of  God's  children  sit  in  darkness, 
crushed  by  their  sorrows,  yearning  for  comfort  and 
for  an  assurance  of  the  divine  love  and  sympathy, 
hearing  no  soft  music,  no  whisper  of  consolation, 
while  close  beside  them  the  Master  himself  stands 
unperceived,  and  heaven's  sweetest  songs  float  un- 
heard in  the  very  air  they  breathe.  It  is  a  simpler 
faith  we  need  to  take  the  consolation  our  Father 
sends  when  our  hearts  are  breaking. 

There  is  no  comfort  like  the  fact  of  God's  infi- 
nite, unchanging  and  eternal  love  for  ns.  If  we 
can  but  get  this  truth  into  our  individual  conscious- 
ness, it  wijl  sustain  us  in  every  trial.     All  the  uni- 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  SORROW.  95 

verse  is  iiiKler  his  personal  sway,  and  he  is  our 
tenderest  and  dearest  Friend,  carrying  each  one 
of  us  close  in  his  heart.  Providence  is  not  merely 
the  outworking  of  a  mechanical  system  or  the 
beneficent  operation  of  wise  and  good  laws.  It  is 
rather  the  thoughtful,  sleepless,  loving  care  of  our 
Father.  We  put  God  too  far  off.  There  are  laws 
of  Nature,  but  he  is  the  Lawmaker,  and  these  laws 
are  but  the  methods  of  his  kindness.  They  do 
not  make  any  gulf  between  him  and  his  children. 
In  every  well-ordered  household  there  are  regula- 
tions, rules,  habits,  laws,  but  these  do  not  make 
the  home-providence  any  less  due  to  the  love  and 
kindness  of  the  parents.  No  more  do  Nature's 
established  and  uniform  laws  cut  us  off  from  the 
personal  care  of  God.  He  comes  near  to  us  per- 
petually in  these  methods  of  his  providence.  His 
own  fingers  touch  the  tints  in  the  flower.  With  his 
own  hand  he  feeds  the  birds,  and  in  all  second 
causes  it  is  still  his  hand  that  works.  The  beauti- 
ful things  we  see  are  the  pictures  our  Father  has 
hung  up  in  our  chamber  to  give  us  pleasure.  The 
good  things  ^Ye  receive  are  the  ever-fresh  tokens 
of  his  thoughtful  love  for  us. 

And   the  same  is  true  of  the  evil  and  painful 
things.      Our  Father  sent  them.      They   seem    ta 


96  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

mean  harm.  But  he  loves  us  with  a  love  deep, 
tender  and  eternal.  We  cannot  see  how  these 
tilings  consist  with  love's  plan,  but  we  know  that 
they  must ;  and  in  this  faith  we  may  rest,  not 
understanding,  but  yet  undoubting,  unquestioning 
and  unfearing. 

"If  we  could  push  ajar  the  gates  of  life, 

And  stand  within  and  all  God's  workings  see, 
We  could  interpret  all  this  doubt  and  strife, 
And  for  each  mystery  could  find  a  key." 

But  this  we  cannot  do.  Hereafter  w^e  shall 
know.  Yet  even  now,  knowing  what  we  do  of 
God's  wise  and  eternal  love  for  us,  we  can  believe 
and  trust  and  be  at  peace.  This  is  the  truest  com- 
fort. It  is  the  clasp  of  the  tree's  roots  upon  the 
immutable  rock.  It  is  the  soul's  clinging  to  God 
in  the  storm. 

A  tourist  writes  of  stopping  at  Giesbach  to  look 
at  the  wonders  of  its  waterfalls.  The  party  had 
to  pass  over  one  of  the  falls  on  a  slender  bridge 
through  the  drenching  water,  with  the  wild  tor- 
rents dashing  beneath.  It  was  a  trying  experience. 
But  once  through  a  glorious  picture  burst  upon 
them.  There  were  rainbows  above,  beneath  and 
circling  on  all  sides.  So  the  spray  of  sorrow  falls 
now,  and  we  may  have  to  walk  through  floods  and 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  SORROW.  97 

pitiless  torrents,  and  all  may  seem  a  strange,  in- 
explicable mystery.  But  there  will  come  a  time 
when  we  shall  have  passed  through  these  showers 
of  grief,  and  when  we  shall  stand  amid  the  splen- 
dor of  rainbows  on  the  shores  of  glory.  Then  we 
will  understand,  and  sec  ±ove  in  every  pang  and 

tear. 
7 


X- 

AS  UNTO  THE  LORD. 

"  I  must  pray  to  God  that  somebody  else  may  do  whatever 
I  leave  undone.  But  1  shall  not  have  any  right  to  that  prayer 
unless  I  do  my  duty  wherever  I  see  it." — Edward  Garrett. 

A  GREAT  (leal  is  said  in  the  Scriptures  about 
serving  th^'  Lord.  J^ut  how  are  we  to  serve 
him?  What  kind  of  work  comes  under  the  head 
of  service?  There  are  wrong  impressions  regard- 
ing this.  All  suppose  that  they  are  serving  the 
Ijord  when  they  engage  in  specifically  religious 
exercises.  After  his  day's  work  a  man  goes  to  a 
prayer-meeting..  He  regards  that  as  serving,  but 
does  not  think  of  calling  his  long  day's  secular 
work  by  the  same  sweet  designation.  A  woman 
visits  a  sick  neighbor  in  the  afternoon,  reads  a  few 
passages  and  bows  in  prayer  at  her  bedside.  She 
feels  as  she  turns  away  that  the  Lord  accepts  that 
as  service,  but  she  does  not  dare  to  think  of  her 
long  morning's  work  at  home  in  burdensome 
household  duties  or  among  her  children,  mending, 

98 


AS   UNTO  THE  LORD.  99 

patching,  teaching,  comforting,  as  of  the  same 
sacred  character. 

And  yet  it  is  possible  for  us  to  do  the  simplest, 
most  prosaic  of  these  things  in  such  a  way  as  to 
render  acceptable  service  to  the  I^ord.  The  ques- 
tion, then,  arises,  How  are  we  to  perform  these 
common  secular  duties  so  as  to  make  them  pleas- 
ing to  Christ  as  ministries  to  him? 

First  of  all,  our  lives  must  be  truly  consecrated 
to  Christ.  If  they  are  not,  the  most  magnificent 
services  will  not  be  accepted.  Then  the  work  we 
do  must  be  the  work  to  which  he  calls  us  at  the 
time.  Something  else  than  our  present  duty, 
though  requiring  more  toil  and  appearing  more 
splendid,  will  not  be  pleasing  while  present  duty 
is  left  unperformed.  A  missionary  journey  to 
Joppa  will  not  be  accepted  as  a  substitute  for  a 
similar  visit  to  Nineveh.  Prayer  will  not  be  a 
sweet  savor  if  at  the  moment  there  is  a  human 
need  crying  for  help  unheeded.  Running  to  Dor- 
cas-meetings and  temperance  societies  or  attend- 
ing noonday  prayer-meetings  will  not  win  the 
smile  of  approval  while  home-duties  are  neg- 
lected. 

Then  the  work  we  do  must  itself  be  pure  and 
good  work   in  a  lawful  and  proper  calling.      No 


100  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

formal   consecration   can    make    any   wrong-doing 
pleasing  to  the  Master. 

Then,  again,  we  must  do  our  work  well.  "Work 
that  we  slight  or  do  dishonestly  is  not  acceptable 
service.  This  phase  of  Christian  duty  is  some- 
times overlooked.  Those  who  would  not  utter  a 
false  word  or  commit  a  dishonest  act  will  yet  per- 
form their  work  carelessly  or  imperfectly.  The 
principles  of  religion  apply  just  as  well  to  the  car- 
penter's trade  or  to  the  tailor's  or  to  the  house- 
keeper's work  as  to  the  business  of  the  banker  or 
the  merchant.  It  is  just  as  really  dishonest  to  sew 
up  a  seam  that  will  rip  or  to  put  inferior  material 
or  bad  workmanship  into  a  building  as  it  is  to  use 
a  short  yardstick  or  light  weights  or  to  adulterate 
coffee  or  sugar.  God  is  not  pleased  with  any  work 
unless  it  is  the  very  best  that  we  can  render. 

The  old  cathedral- builders  understood  this  when 
they  finished  every  smallest  detail  of  their  stupen- 
dous fabrics  as  conscientiously  as  the  most  massive 
parts.  The  gilded  spires,  far  away  in  the  clouds, 
which  no  human  eye  could  ever  inspect,  were  made 
with  as  much  care  as  the  altar-mouldings  or  the 
carvings  on  the  great  doors,  which  all  should  see. 
They  slighted  nothing  because  it  was  not  to  be  ex- 
posed to  human  gaze.     They  wrought  for  the  great 


AS  UNTO  THE  LORD.  103 

Taskmaster's  eye.  "  Why  carve  yon  so  carefully  the 
tresses  of  that  statue's  head?"  asked  one  of  au 
ancient  sculptor  as  he  wrought  with  marvelous 
pains  on  the  back  part  of  the  figure.  "  The  statue 
will  stand  high  up  in  its  niche,  with  its  back  to  the 
wall,  and  no  one  will  see  it.'' — "  Ah  !  the  gods  will 
see  it,"  w^as  the  sublime  answer.  So  must  we 
work  if  we  would  render  pleasing  service  to  the 
Lord.  The  builder  must  build  as  conscientiously 
in  the  parts  that  are  to  be  covered  from  sight  as  in 
those  that  will  be  most  conspicuous.  The  dress- 
maker must  sew  as  faithfully  the  hidden  seams  as 
the  most  showv.  I  do  not  believe  that  we  can 
ever  serve  Christ  acceptably  by  any  kind  of 
shams  or  deceits. 

If  we  do  our  secular  work  thus,  it  will  be  accept- 
able to  the  Lord  as  service  rendered  to  him.  It 
may  be  impossible  with  each  separate  act  to  have 
the  conscious  feeling,  "  I  do  this  for  Christ."  As 
far  as  possible,  we  should  cultivate  the  habit  of  this 
minute  serving.  It  will  give  a  wondrous  inspira- 
tion to  our  lives,  and  will  change  even  drudgery 
into  service  as  holy  as  angels'  ministries.  It  is  not 
impossible  to  learn  to  do  even  this.  But  if  the 
great  underlying  motive  of  all  our  life  be  to  serve 
and  honor  Christ  and  bless  the  world,  the  whole  in- 


102  WEEK-DAY  RELWION. 

eludes  all  its  parts.  And  thus  the  dreariest  paths 
of  duty  will  become  bright  ways  of  joy,  the  com- 
monest drudgeries  of  life  will  become  clothed  in 
garments  of  beauty,  and  all  routine-work,  in  home 
and  field,  in  shop  and  office,  in  school  and  study, 
will  appear  sacred  and  holy  because  done  for  the 
Master. 

But  amid  these  common  secular  duties  come 
countless  opportunities  of  serving  in  another  sense 
by  active  ministries  to  others.  This  is  always 
pleasing  to  Christ;  indeed,  he  puts  himself  behind 
every  one  who  needs  help  or  comfort,  and  accepts 
all  deeds  of  benevolence  and  true  charity  as  done  to 
himself.  And  there  is  not  an  hour  of  our  waking 
existence  that  does  not  bring  us  in  contact  with 
other  lives  that  need  something  we  have  to  give. 
We  are  not  to  wait  for  opportunities  to  do  great 
things — not  to  keep  watching  for  some  splendid 
thing  which  by  its  conspicuous  importance  may 
win  for  us  the  applause  of  men — but  are  to  do  al- 
ways, moment  by  moment,  the  thing  that  comes  to 
our  hand.  It  may  be  to  speak  a  cheering  word  to 
one  who  is  disheartened,  to  join  in  a  child's  play, 
to  mend  a  broken  toy,  to  send  a  few  flowers  made 
more  fragrant  by  your  love  into  a  sick-room,  or  to 
write  a  letter  of  condolence  or  sympathy.    It  is  the 


AS   UNTO   THE  LORD.  103 

thing,  small  or  great,  which  our  hand  finds  at  the 
moment  to  do. 

Or  our  part  in  serv^ing  may  often  be  to  wait. 
There  are  times  when  we  can  do  nothing  more. 
The  voice  which  has  been  wont  to  say,  "Go  and 
labor,"  is  heard  saying,  "Lie  still  and  wait.'' 
Then  quiet,  submissive,  unmurmuring  patience 
pleases  Christ  just  as  well  as  ever  did  the  most 
intense  activities  in  other  davs. 

Or  it  mav  be  in  sufferino;  that  we  are  called  to 
serve.  There  come  occasions  in  the  life  of  each 
one  of  us  when  the  best  thin^:  for  us  is  darkness  and 
pain,  when  we  can  do  most  for  the  cause  of  Christ 
by  suffering  for  his  sake.  In  such  cases  the  secret 
of  service  lies  in  joyful  resignation,  asking 

"What  would  God  have  this  sorrow  do  for  me? 
What  is  its  mission?     Wliat  its  great  design? 
What  golden  fruit  lies  hidden  in  its  husk  ? 
How  shall  it  nurse  my  virtue,  nerve  my  will, 
Chasten  ray  passions,  purify  my  love, 
And  make  me  in  some  goodly  sense  like  him 
Who  bore  the  cross  of  sorrow  while  he  lived 
And  hung  and  bled  upon  it  when  he  dit'd, 
And  now  in  glory  wears  the  victor's  crown?" 

Into  a  prisoner's  cell  came  each  day  for  half  an 
hour  a  few  rays  of  sunlight.  He  found  a  nail  and 
a  stone  on   his   floor,  aiid    with   these   rude    imple- 


104  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

mcnts  cut  and  cliisclofl  day  after  day  during  the 
few  moments  when  the  liglit  lay  upon  the  wall, 
until  in  the  stone  he  had  cut  the  iniaw  of  the 
Christ  ujion  his  cross.  In  the  dark  days  of  sorrow 
that  come  to  us  we  may  serve  Christ  by  seeking 
to  sculpture  his  sweet  beauty,  not  in  cold  stone,  but 
on  the  warm,  living  walls  of  our  own  hearts. 

Thus  we  see  that  serving  the  Lord  is  not  the 
privilege  and  pleasure  of  a  few  rare  hours  alone, 
but  embraces  the  whole  wide  range  of  life  and 
work  and  takes  in  all  our  relationships  to  home,  to 
friends,  to  humanity,  to  business,  to  pleasure.  If 
the  heart  be  right,  our  whole  life  becomes  one  un- 
broken series  of  services  rendered  to  the  Lord. 

The  vital  point  in  this  whole  matter  is  the  mo- 
tive that  underlies  it  all.  It  is  possible  to  live  a 
very  laborious  life  filled  with  intense  activities,  and 
yet  never,  from  youth  to  old  age,  do  one  deed  that 
Christ  accepts  as  service.  It  is  possible  even  to 
live  a  life  of  what  is  called  religious  service,  full 
of  what  are  regarded  as  sacred  duties,  and  yet 
never  in  one  thing  truly  serve  Christ.  The  heart 
may  never  have  been  given  to  him  at  all.  Or  the 
motives  may  have  been  wrong.  That  which  makes 
any  act  distinctively  a  Christian  act  is  that  it  is 
done  in  the   name   of  Christ  and   to   please  him. 


AS  UNTO  THE  LORD.  105 

The  moralist  does  right  things,  but  without  any 
reference  to  Christ,  not  confessinp;  him  or  lovintr 
him  ;  the  Christian  does  the  same  things,  but  does 
them  because  the  Master  wants  him  to  do  them. 
As  one  has  beautifully  said,  "  What  we  can  do  for 
God  is  little  or  nothing,  but  we  must  do  our  little 
nothings  for  his  glory/^  This  is  the  motive  that, 
filling  our  hearts,  makes  even  drudgery  divine  be- 
cause it  is  done  for  Christ.  It  may  be  but  to 
sweep  a  room  or  rock  an  infant  to  sleep  or  teach 
a  ragged  child  or  mend  a  rent  or  plane  a  board ; 
but  if  it  is  done  as  unto  the  Lord,  it  will  be  owned 
and  accepted.  But  it  may  be  the  grandest  of  works 
— the  founding  of  an  asylum,  the  building  of  a 
cathedral  or  a  whole  life  of  eloquence  or  display ; 
but  if  it  is  not  done  for  Christ,  it  all  counts  for 
nothing. 

There  is  no  life  in  the  world  so  sweet  as  that  of , 
one  who  truly  serves  Christ.  It  is  always  easy  to 
toil  for  one  we  love.  And  when  the  heart  is  full 
of  love  for  the  Master,  it  throws  a  wondrous 
warmth  and  tenderness  about  all  duty.  Things 
that  would  be  very  austere  or  repulsive  merely  as 
duties  become  very  easy  when  done  for  him. 

It  was  the  strange  fancy  of  a  little  child,  writes 
George  Macdonald,  as   he   stood    on   a   summer's 


106  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

evening  looking  intently  and  thonghtfully  at  the 
great  banks  of  clouds  piled  like  mountains  of 
glory  about  the  setting  sun  :  ^'  Mother,  I  wish  I 
could  be  a  painter." — "  Wliy,  my  child?" — "For 
then  I  would  help  God  paint  the  clouds  and  the 
sunsets."  It  was  a  strange  and  beautiful  aspira- 
tion. But  our  commonest  work  in  this  world  may 
be  made  far  nobler  than  that.  We  may  live  to 
touch  hues  of  loveliness  in  immortal  spirits  which 
shall  endure  for  ever. 

Clouds  dissolve  and  float  away.  The  most  gor- 
geous sunset  splendors  vanish  in  a  few  moments. 
The  artist's  canvas  crumbles  and  his  wondrous 
creations  fade.     But  work  done  for  Christ  endures 

■ 

for  ever.  A  life  of  simple  consecration  leaves  a 
trace  of  imperishable  beauty  on  everything  it 
touches.  Not  great  deeds  alone,  but  the  smallest, 
the  obscurest,  the  most  prosaic,  write  their  record 
in  fadeless  lines. 

We  need  to  have  but  the  one  care — that  we  live 
our  one  little  life  truly  unto  the  Lord. 


XI. 

HUMILITY  AND  RESPONSIBILITY. 

fTlHERE  are  some  rare  and  beautiful  virtues  in 
-*-  whose  shadow  evils  lurk.  Thus  humility  is 
one  of  the  loveliest  of  the  graces.  It  is  an  orna- 
ment which  in  the  sight  of  God  is  of  great  price. 
It  is  an  element  of  character  which  wins  the  ad- 
miration of  all  the  world.  It  is  the  highest  proof 
of  inner  beauty  of  soul.  It  is  like  the  fragrance 
of  the  lovely  violet  hidden  amid  the  more  con- 
spicuous forms  of  life,  unseen,  but  filling  all  the 
air  with  its  sweet  perfume.  No  grace  is  more 
highly  commended  in  the  Scriptures. 

And  yet  in  its  shade  there  hide  very  specious 
counterfeits  of  itself.  Many  a  man,  while  seriously 
believing  that  he  was  exercising  an  acceptable  hu- 
mility, has  buried  his  talents  in  the  earth,  hidden 
his  light  under  a  bushel,  lived  a  useless  life  when 
he  might  have  been  a  blessing  to  many,  and  passed 
in  the  end  to  a  darkened  and  crownless  future. 

107 


,108  WEEK-DA  Y  RELIGION. 

The  virtue  and  the  vice  lie  so  close  together  and 
look  so  much  alike  that  we  are  quite  apt  to  be  de- 
ceived. We  all  admire  humility.  We  are  pleased 
to  find  a  man  who  does  not  place  a  high  estimate 
on  his  own  powers,  and  who  modestly  shrinks  from 
great  responsibilities  even  when  they  are  pressed 
upon  him.  Amid  the  almost  universal  strife  for 
the  highest  places,  it  is  refreshing  to  find  a  man 
who  is  not  scheming  for  preferment,  and  who  even 
declines  proffered  trusts  and  honors.  The  exceed- 
ing rarity  of  modesty  and  humility  in  men's  self- 
estimates  makes  these  traits  shine  in  very  charming 
beauty  when  they  do  appear.  We  grow  so  sick  of 
men's  pretensions,  their  bold  pressing  of  their  own 
virtues  and  excellences  upon  our  attention,  and  their 
eagerness  to  assume  resj^onsibilities  for  which  they 
have  no  adequate  fitness,  that  we  very  easily  glide 
into  the  other  extreme. 

It  is  especially  in  the  sphere  of  moral  and  spirit- 
ual work  that  we  are  most  apt  to  excuse  ourselves 
from  duty  on  the  plea  of  humility.  Even  those 
who  quite  eagerly  accept  important  positions  in 
secular  life,  and  perform  their  duties  with  confi- 
dence and  effectiveness,  shrink  from  the  simplest 
exercise  of  their  powers  in  Christian  work.  Men 
who  at  the  bar  or  on  the  judge's  bench  can  utter 


HUMILITY  AND  RESPONSIBILITY.        109 

most  eloquent  words  in  behalf  of  justice  and  right 
cannot  be  induced  to  open  their  lips  in  exhortation 
or  prayer  in  a  religious  meeting.  Ladies  who  in 
the  parlor  and  social  circle  exercise  their  conversa- 
tional powers  with  wondrous  grace  and  earnestness 
cannot  sit  down  beside  an  anxious  inquirer  to  try 
to  guide  a  soul  to  Christ,  or  read  and  pray  in  a 
sick-room,  where  their  tender  voice  and  gentle  sym- 
pathy would  impart  such  marvelous  help. 

Over  all  the  Church  the  prevalent  tendency  upon 
the  part  of  lay-members  is  to  shrink  from  the  exer- 
cise of  their  gifts  in  the  Master's  work.  And  the 
plea  is  unfitness,  want  of  ability.  Classes  go  un- 
taught in  many  a  Sabbath-school,  and  there  are 
thousands  of  children  that  ought  to  be  gathered  in 
and  trained.  Meanwhile,  there  are  large  numbers 
of  Christian  men  and  women  in  the  churches,  with 
abundant  ability  for  such  service,  but  who  shrink 
from  it  and  try  to  satisfy  their  own  uneasy  con- 
sciences by  humbly  pleading  unfitness  for  the  del- 
icate duties.  There  are  urgent  necessities  for  work 
in  every  line  of  Christian  enterprise.  There  are 
fields  that  need  only  reasonable  culture  to  render 
them  fruitful.  There  are  voices  calling  to  duty 
that  break  upon  our  ears  every  moment  amid  the 
noises  of  the  street.     There  are  cries  of  human 


no  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

distress  and  want  that  are  for  ever  coming  to  our 
hearts  with  their  urgent  appeals.  But  amid  all 
these  opportunities  for  usefulness,  these  waiting, 
clamorous  duties  and  these  pathetic  pleadings  for 
help,  gifted  men  and  women  sit  with  folded  hands. 

It  is  not  because  they  have  no  interest  in  the 
Master's  work  or  are  insensible  to  the  calls  of 
duty  and  the  cries  of  distress.  It  is  because  they 
are  unconscious  of  their  own  power.  They  do  not 
believe  that  they  have  ability  to  do  the  things  that 
need  to  be  done.  '  They  think  it  would  be  pre- 
sumption for  them,  with  their  weak  and  unskilled 
hands,  to  undertake  the  duties  that  solicit  them. 
So  they  fold  their  talent  away  and  bury  it,  and 
think  that  they  have  acted  in  the  line  of  a  beau- 
tiful and  commendable  humility,  in  modestly  de- 
clining such  important  responsibilities.  It  does 
not  occur  to  them  that  they  have  grievously 
sinned. 

Our  humility  serves  us  falsely  when  it  leads  us 
to  shrink  from  any  duty.  The  plea  of  unfitness 
or  inability  is  utterly  insufficient  to  excuse  us.  It 
is  too  startlingly  like  that  offered  by  the  one-tal- 
ented man  in  the  parable,  whose  gift  was  so  small 
that  there  seemed  no  use  in  trying  to  employ  it. 
The  l«rid  light  that  the  sequel  to  his  story  flashes 


HUMILITY  AND  RESPONSIBILITY.        Ill 

upon  us  should  arouse  us  to  read  the  meaning  of 
personal  responsibility,  and  to  hasten  to  employ 
every  shred  of  a  gift  that  God  has  bestowed 
upon  us. 

The  talent  may  be  very  small — so  small  that  it 
scarcely  seems  to  matter  whether  it  is  used  or  not 
so  far  as  its  impression  on  the  world  or  on  other 
lives  is  concerned ;  and  yet  we  can  never  know 
w^hat  is  small  or  what  is  great  in  this  life,  in 
which  every  cause  starts  consequences  that  sweep 
into  eternity. 

"  Only  a  thought ;  but  the  work  it  wrought 
Could  never  by  tongue  or  pen  be  taught, 
For  it  ran  through  a  life  like  a  thread  of  gold, 
And  the  life  bore  fruit  a  hundred  fold. 

"Only  a  word;  but  'twas  spoken  in  love, 
With  a  whispered  prayer  to  the  Lord  above ; 
And  the  angels  in  heaven  rejoiced  once  more, 
For  a  new-l)orn  soul  entered  in  by  the  door." 

It  is  the  faithfulness  of  the  one-talented  million 
rather  than  of  the  richly-endowed  one  or  two  that 
is  needed  to-dav  to  hasten  the  comino;  of  Christ's 
kingdom.  There  is  not  a  gift  so  small  that  it  is 
not  wanted  to  make  the  work  of  the  church  com- 
plete. There  is  not  one  so  small  but  that  its  hid- 
ing away  leaves  some  life  unblest.  There  is  not 
one  so  insignificant  that  it  may  not  start  a  wave 


112  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

of  influence  which  shall  roll  on  over  the  sea  of 
human  life  until  it  breaks  on  the  shores  of  eter- 
nity. 

But  the  most  startling  phase  of  this  subject  is 
that  which  concerns  the  person  himself.  Instead 
of  being  a  merely  negative  act,  or  even  a  praise- 
worthy humility,  to  decline  a  responsibility,  it  is 
described  in  the  Scriptures  as  a  great  dishonor  to 
Christ,  who  has  bestowed  his  gifts  upon  us,  and  as 
involving  the  most  calamitous  and  farreaching 
personal  consequences.  All  gifts  are  granted  to 
be  used,  and  used  to  the  utmost.  We  are  required 
to  develop  our  abilities  by  exercise  until  they  have 
attained  the  very  highest  possibility  of  power  and 
usefulness,  and  to  employ  them  in  doing  work 
which  will  honor  God  and  bless  the  world. 

The  perversion  of  our  gifts  or  their  degrada- 
tion to  unworthy  ends,  we  all  reprobate  as  sinful. 
The  man  with  great  power  for  usefulness  who 
employs  this  power  to  destroy  others,  to  lead  them 
astray,  to  corrupt  and  poison  the  fountains  of  life, 
w^e  condemn  as  basest  of  mortals.  There  are  many 
such  men,  who  live  to  tarnish  purity,  to  spread 
ruin,  to  disseminate  falsehood  and  to  lead  the 
unwary  to  perdition.  For  these  there  must  be  a 
terrible  retribution.     But  the  phase  of  this  ques- 


HUMILITY  AND  RESPONSIBILITY.        113 

tiou  which  I  am  now  considering  is  not  misuse  but 
nonuse  of  gifts.  It  is  a  fearful  thing  to  take  a 
faculty  given  wherewith  to  bless  the  world,  and  use 
it  in  such  a  way  as  to  leave  blight  and  woe  and 
curse  instead  of  blessing.  But  it  is  also  a  fearful 
thing  to  fold  up  the  talent  and  hide  it  away.  It 
is  the  blighting  of  our  own  hope  of  glory,  the 
throwing  away  of  our  own  crown. 

In  a  quarry  at  Baalbec  lies  the  largest  wrought 
stone  in  the  world,  almost  detached  and  ready  for 
transportation,  and  in  the  ruined  temple  of  the 
Sun  near  by  is  a  place  still  empty  and  waiting  for 
this  stone  after  forty  centuries.  So  large,  so  grand, 
it  was  a  failure,  because  it  never  filled  the  place 
for  which  it  was  designed ;  and  who  can  tell  how 
many  human  lives  lie  among  the  wastes  and  ruins 
of  life  that  God  intended  to  fill  grand  places? 
When  they  were  called  they  declined  to  accept  the 
responsibility.  They  folded  their  talents  away  and 
buried  them,  and  for  ever  they  will  lie  in  the  quar- 
ries, pale  ghosts  of  glorious  might-have-beens, 
while  the  niches  in  God's  temple  which  they  were 
meant  to  fill  and  adorn  remain  for  ever  empty, 
memorials  of  their  hopeless  and  irreparable  fail- 
ure. It  never  can  be  known  until  the  final  dis- 
closure  how  many  glorious  gifts   have  thus  been 

8 


1 1 4  WEEK-DA  Y  RELIGION. 

lost  to  the  world,  nor  how  many  lives  with  grand 
possibilities  have  slirivelcd  and  died  under  the 
bliiihtino:  curse  of  n  on  use. 

Kesponsibilities  encircle  us  about.  They  make 
solemn  all  of  life's  relations.  They  charge  even 
our  lightest  acts  and  our  unconscious  influence 
with  the  most  weighty  seriousness.  We  can  only 
fulfill  life's  grand  meaning  when  we  accept  every 
responsibility  with  glad  welcome  and  reverent  self- 
confidence.  There  is  a  wide  difference  between 
self-conceit  and  that  proper  estimate  of  one's  own 
powers  that  rates  them  justly  and  fairly  and  is  not 
afraid  to  put  them  to  the  test.  That  self-confi- 
dence is  not  wrong  which  leads  us  to  accept  with- 
out distrust  the  responsibilities  which  God  lays  at 
our  feet.  Humility  is  not  meant  to  make  dwarfs 
out  of  giants.  A  man  of  great  gifts,  in  order  to 
be  humble,  is  not  required  to  esteem  himself  a  poor 
ungifted  and  good-for-nothing  man.  We  need  to 
revise  our  ideas  of  humility.  If  we  must  give 
account  to  God  for  every  gift  of  usefulness,  and 
for  its  fullest  possible  exercise,  we  must  honor  our 
redeemed  powers,  appreciate  their  true  value,  and 
then  devote  them  to  the  service  of  Christ  and  of 
our  fellow-men. 

We  are  not  put  into  this  world  for  idle  ease,  but 


HUMILITY  AND  RESPONSIBILITY.        115 

for  most  earnest  work.  They  misunderstood  the 
meaning  of  Christian  life  who  in  olden  days  fled 
away  to  tlie  deserts  and  dwelt  in  huts  and  caves 
and  lonelv  cells,  far  from  the  noise  and  strife  of 
the  world,  and  they  misread  the  divine  writing 
also  who  think  in  these  days  to  serve  Christ  only 
in  prayer  and  devotion,  while  they  go  not  out  to 
toil  for  him. 

"Hark,  hark!  a  voice  amid  the  quiet  intense! 

It  is  thy  duty  waiting  thee  without: 
Open  thy  door  straightway  and  get  thee  hence; 

Go  forth  into  the  tumult  and  the  shout; 
Work,  love,  with  workers,  lovers,  all  about. 

Then,  weary,  go  thou  back  with  failing  breath, 
And  in  thy  chamber  make  thy  prayer  and  moan; 
One  day  upon  his  bosom,  all  thine  own, 

Thou  shalt  lie  still,  embraced  in  holy  death." 

There  is  no  such  thing  as  a  consecrated  life 
which  is  not  consecrated  to  service.  The  way  to 
spiritual  health  lies  in  the  paths  of  toil.  The 
reason  of  so  much  doubt  and  discontent  in  the 
hearts  of  Christian  people  is  that  so  many  sit  with 
folded  hands,  with  no  occupation  but  brooding 
over  their  own  cares.  If  they  would  but  go  out 
and  begin  to  toil  for  others,  they  would  forget 
themselves,  and  the  joy  of  the  Lord  would  flow 
into  their  souls.     There  is  no  way  to  fulfill  life's 


1 1 G  WEEK-DA  Y  RELIGION. 

grand  meaning  and   to  enter  at  last   into  fullest 
joy  but  by  living  lives  of  devotion  to  duty. 

Let  no  one,  then,  hide  away  from  the  solemn  re- 
sponsibilities of  his  calling  in  any  imagined  hu- 
mility or  lowly  estimate  of  his  own  abilities. 
When  God  calls  us  to  a  work  he  gives  the  needed 
strength.  Not  one  of  us  knows  the  possibilities  of 
usefulness  that  lie  folded  up  in  his  hand  and  brain 
and  heart.  The  Lord  can  use  human  feebleness  as 
well  as  human  strength.  To  him  that  is  faithful 
in  a  little,  more  is  given,  and  more  and  more. 

"  What  are  we  set  on  earth  for  ?  Say  to  toil ; 
Nor  seek  to  leave  thy  tending  of  the  vines, 
For  all  the  heat  o'  the  day,  till  it  declines. 

And  death's  mild  curfew  shall  from  work  assoil. 

God  did  anoint  thee  with  his  odorous  oil 
To  wrestle,  not  to  reign ;  and  he  assigns 
All  thy  tears  over  like  pure  crystallines 

For  younger  fellow-workers  of  the  soil 
To  wear  for  amulets.     So  others  shall 

Take  patience,  labor,  to  their  heart  and  hand, 

From  thy  hand  and  thy  heart  and  thy  brave  cheer, 
And  God's  grace  fructify  through  thee  to  all. 

The  least  flower  with  a  brimming  cup  may  stand, 
And  share  its  dewdrop  with  another  near." 


XII. 

NOT  TO  BE  MINISTERED  UNTO. 

"She  sat  and  wept,  and  with  her  untressed  hair 
Still  wiped  the  feet  she  was  so  blessed  to  touch  ; 
And  he  wiped  off  the  soiling  of  despair 

From  her  sweet  soul  because  she  loved  so  much." 

Hahtley  Coleridge. 

r  I IHERE  are  many  people  who  waufc  to  be  useful, 
-■-  who  want  to  live  to  help  others,  who  find  in- 
superable obstacles  in  the  way.  There  are  some 
to  whom  they  find  it  quite  easy  to  minister — those 
of  lovely  character,  those  who  are  their  friends 
and  who  readily  reciprocate  any  favors  shown  to 
them.  But  it  will  not  do  to  confine  the  outgoings 
of  their  helpfulness  and  ministry  to  such  small 
classes  as  these.  Even  sinners  do  good  to  those 
that  do  good  to  them  and  give  to  those  of  whom  they 
hope  to  receive  again.  The  Christian  is  to  do 
more.  He  is  even  to  do  good  to  them  that  hate 
him.  He  is  to  minister  to  any  who  need  his  min- 
istry, despite  their  character  or  their  treatment  of 

117 


118  WEEK-DA  Y  RELIGION. 

liiin.  Even  toward  unwortliy  and  disagreeable 
people  he  is  to  maintain  that  love  that  never 
faileth. 

But  how  can  I  help  one  whom  I  cannot  respect? 
How  can  I  be  useful  to  one  who  treats  me  only 
with  insults  and  slights  ? 

There  is  a  way  of  relating  ourselves  to  all  men 
about  us  which  solves  all  these  difficulties  and 
makes  it  easy  for  us  to  do  good  to  any  one.  So 
loner  as  we  think  of  ourselves  and  of  what  is  due 
to  us  from  others,  it  will  be  impossible  for  us  to 
minister  to  very  many  people.  But  where  true 
Christian  love  reigns  in  the  heart  the  centre  of  life 
falls  no  longer  inside  the  narrow  circle  of  self. 

Those  who  study  carefully  our  Lord's  life  will 
be  struck  with  his  wonderful  reverence  for  human 
life.  He  looked  upon  no  one  with  disdain  or  con- 
tempt. The  meanest  fragment  of  humanity  that 
crept  into  his  presence,  trampled,  torn,  stained,  de- 
filed, was  yet  sacred  in  his  eyes.  He  never  de- 
spised any  human  being.  And,  further,  he  stood 
before  men,  not  as  a  king,  demanding  attention, 
reverence,  service,  but  as  one  who  wished  to  serve, 
to  help,  to  lift  up.  He  said  he  had  not  come  to  be 
ministered  unto,  but  to  minister.  He  never  thought 
of  what  was  due  from  men   to  him,  but  always  of 


NOT  TO  BE  MINISTERED    UNTO.         119 

what  he  could  do  for  thera,  how  he  could  serve 
them.  How  could  it  be  otherwise,  since  he  came  to 
earth  solely  to  save  men  and  since  his  heart  was  so 
full  of  love  for  them  ?  Whenever  a  human  being 
stood  before  him,  he  saw  one  in  whose  heart  were 
sorrows  which  needed  sympathy,  or  one  bruised  by 
sin  needing  healing  and  restoration.  Thus  he  was 
easily  able  to  serve  all.  The  more  repulsive  the 
life  that  stood  before  him,  the  more  deeply,  in  one 
sense,  did  it  appeal  to  his  love,  because  it  needed 
his  help  all  the  more  on  account  of  its  repulsive- 
ness. 

We  shall  be  prepared  to  seek  the  good  of  others 
in  the  largest,  truest  way  only  when  we  have 
learned  to  look  upon  human  lives  as  our  Lord 
did.  There  was  not  a  poor  ruined  creature  that 
came  into  his  presence  in  whom  he  did  not  see, 
under  all  the  wasting  of  sin,  something  that  he 
esteemed  worthy  of  his  love.  There  was  not  one 
w'hom  he  thought  it  a  degradation  to  serve.  When 
the  disciples  were  quarreling  as  to  which  one 
should  take  the  servant's  place  and  wash  the  feet 
of  the  others,  he  quietly  arose  and  performed  the 
humble  service.  He  was  never  more  conscious  of 
his  exalted  glory  than  he  was  that  hour,  and  yet 
there  was  no  reluctance  in  his  heart.     The  question 


1 20  WEEK-DA  Y'  RELIGION. 

of  their  immeasurable  inferiority  to  him  never  rose 
in  his  mind.  He  never  thought  for  a  moment  that 
these  men  were  not  worthy  to  have  such  menial 
service  performed  for  them  by  such  liands  as  his. 
He  saw  in  them  something  which  made  it  no  de- 
gradation even  for  his  divinity  to  serve  them. 
When  we  have  learned  to  look  upon  human  lives 
as  he  did  it  will  be  no  painful  task  to  minister,  at 
whatever  cost,  to  the  lowliest  and  most  unworthy 
about  us. 

We  are  willing  enough  to  serve  those  whom  we 
honor.  But  we  are  apt  to  hold  our  lives  as  too 
sacred  to  be  spent  or  sacrificed  for  the  sake  of  those 
whom  we  regard  as  beneath  ourselves.  A  tender 
and  delicate  woman  leaves  her  lovely,  sheltered 
home,  and  finds  her  way  into  the  fever-wards  of 
the  city  hospital  or  into  the  gloomy  cells  of  a 
prison  to  try  to  help  the  suffering  or  the  criminals 
she  finds  there.  A  cultured  girl  turns  away  from 
comfort  and  luxury,  from  circles  of  loving  friends, 
and  from  social  honors  and  triumphs,  and  plunges 
into  the  heart  of  a  heathen  land  to  live  out  her 
beautiful  and  golden  life  in  toiling  for  savages. 
A  godly  young  man  turns  away  from  applause 
and  ease,  and  gives  himself  to  the  rescue  of  the 
squalid  classes  in  a  great  city.     On  all  hands  peo- 


NOT  TO  BE  MINISTERED   UNTO.  121 

pie  say,  "  These  lives  are  too  precious  for  such 
work.  They  are  too  refined,  too  beautiful,  too 
delicate,  too  valuable,  to  be  sacrificed  in  such  ser- 
vice.^' But  if  there  was  nothing  in  that  most 
precious,  that  divine  life  of  the  Lord  Jesus  that 
was  too  good  to  be  poured  out  in  serving  such  as 
those  for  whom  he  gave  his  life,  shall  we  say  that 
any  human  life  is  so  sacred,  so  valuable,  that  it 
may  not  find  fitting  employment  in  serving  tho 
poorest,  the  most  ignorant,  the  most  squalid  men 
and  women  to  be  found  in  prison,  in  jungle,  in 
hospital,  in  dreary  tenement  or  wretched  garret? 

When  we  learn  to  measure  others,  not  by  their 
rank  and  station,  but  by  the  worth  of  their  spirit- 
ual nature,  by  their  immortality,  by  the  possibil- 
ities that  lie  in  the  most  ruined  life,  it  will  be  no 
longer  Imiuiliatiug  for  us  to  do  even  the  humblest 
service  for  the  least  of  God's  creatures.  Then  there 
will  be  nothing  in  us  that  will  seem  too  rich  or  too 
sacred  to  be  poured  out  for  the  sake  even  of  the 
most  despised.  We  may  honor  ourselves  and  may 
be  conscious  of  all  the  power  and  dignity  of  our 
lives  as  God's  children,  and  yet  not  think  ourselves 
too  good  to  minister  to  the  smallest  and  the  least. 

There  is  no  other  attitude  in  which  we  can  stand 
to  those  about  us  in  which  we  can  fulfill  the  law 


1 22  WEEK-DA  Y  RELIGION. 

of  Christian  love,  which  requires  us  to  do  good  to 
all  men.  We  must  not  think  of  ourselves  as  de- 
serving attention  from  others.  We  are  not  in  tliis 
world  to  be  made  much  of,  to  be  waited  u})on  and 
served.  The  moment  we  begin  to  relate  ourselves 
in  this  way  to  others  we  cease  to  be  largely  help- 
ful, or  helpful  at  all  in  the  Christian  sense.  AVe 
measure  every  one  then  by  his  ability  and  will- 
ingness to  serve  us.  We  rate  others  as  they  are, 
in  our  estimation,  agreeable  or  disagreeable.  Re- 
pulsiveness  repels  us  because  we  think  of  it  only 
in  its  eflfect  upon  our  own  feelings  and  tastes.  We 
love  pleasant  people  only,  are  kind  only  to  those 
that  are  kind  to  us,  and  serve  only  those  whom  we 
regard  as  honorable  and  worthy.  Kude  treatment 
from  others  shuts  our  hearts  toward  them.  In  a 
word,  we  do  nothing  from  disinterested  motives  and 
seek  always  our  own.  This  may  make  us  very 
pleasant  and  agreeable  in  the  small  circle  of  our 
personal  friends,  and  even  in  business  and  social 
life,  but  it  is  infinitely  removed  from  the  spirit 
and  practice  of  true  Christian  love  and  service. 

We  are  to  regard  ourselves  as  the  servants  of 
others  for  Jesus'  sake.  We  are  to  put  ourselves 
before  men  as  our  Master  did,  not  asking  what 
benefit  or  help  we  can  get  from  them,  but  what  we 


NOT  TO  BE  MINISTERED   UNTO.  123 

can  do  for  them.  It  will  be  seen  at  a  glance  that  if 
we  look  upon  others  in  this  disinterested  way,  our 
hearts  yearning  to  do  them  good,  the  whole  aspect 
of  the  world  will  be  changed.  We  are  not  here  to 
receive  and  to  gather,  but  to  give  and  to  scatter — 
not  to  be  served  and  treated  generously,  but  to 
serve  regardless  of  men's  character  or  their  treat- 
ment of  us.  This  invests  every  human  life  with 
a  wondrous  sacredness.  It  brings  down  our  pride 
and  keeps  it  under  our  feet.  It  changes  scorn  to 
compassion.  It  softens  our  tones  and  takes  from 
us  our  haughty,  dictatorial  spirit.  Instead  of  be- 
ing repelled  by  men's  moral  repulsiveness,  our  pity 
is  stirred  and  our  hearts  go  out  in  deep,  loving 
longing  to  heal  and  to  bless  them.  Instead  of 
being  offended  by  men's  rudeness  and  unkindness, 
we  bear  patiently  with  their  faults,  hoping  to  do 
them  good.  Nothing  that  they  may  do  to  us  turns 
our  love  to  hate.  We  continue  to  seek  their  inte- 
rest despite  their  slights,  insults  and  cruelties.  We 
are  glad  to  spend  and  be  spent  for  others  even 
though  the  more  abundantly  we  love  them  the  less 
they  love  us. 

With  this  spirit  it  is  no  longer  hard  to  do  good 
to  the  most  disagreeable  people,  to  help  the  most 
unworthy.      It  is  easy,  then,  to  love  our  enemies 


124  wJ':kk-day  religion. 

in  the  only  way  it  is  possible  for  us  to  love  them. 
We  cannot  love  them  as  we  do  our  friends.  We 
cannot  approve  their  faults  or  commend  their  im- 
moralities or  make  black  white.  We  cannot  make 
ourselves  think  their  characters  beautiful  when  they 
are  full  of  repulsiveness,  or  their  conduct  right 
when  it  is  manifestly  wrong.  Love  plays  no  such 
tricks  with  our  moral  perceptions.  It  does  not 
hoodwink  us  or  make  us  color-blind.  It  does  not 
make  us  tolerant  of  sin  or  indifferent  to  men's 
blemishes.  Christ  never  lowered,  by  so  much  as  a 
hair's  breadth,  the  perfect  standard  of  holiness  by 
which  he  measured  all  men  and  all  life.  Nor  must 
we.  We  are  ever  to  keep  living  in  our  souls  the 
pure  and  unspotted  ideal.  We  are  not  to  look 
upon  any  sin  leniently  or  apologetically,  and  yet 
we  are  to  love  the  sinner,  to  pity  him  and  have 
compassion  upon  him,  and  instead  of  turning  away 
from  him  in  horror  and  self-righteous  pride  we  are 
to  seek  by  every  means  to  lift  him  up  and  save 
him.  Under  all  the  ruin  of  his  sin  is  the  shat- 
tered  beauty  of  the  divine  image  which  the  gentle 
fingers  of  love  may  repair  and  restore. 


XIII. 

WEARINESS  IN  WELL-DOING. 

"  npHE  beginning  is  half  of  the  whole/'  said  the 
-^  ancient  Greeks.  And  it  is  true  —  true 
whether  the  beginning  be  right  or  wrong.  And 
yet  a  good  beginning  is  not  enough.  It  is  the  last 
step  that  wins  in  the  race.  It  is  the  last  stroke 
that  fells  the  tree.  It  is  the  last  grain  of  sand  that 
turns  the  scales.  One  of  the  sterling  virtues  in 
practical  life  is  continuance — continuance  through 
all  obstacles,  hindrances  and  discouragements.  It 
is  unconquerable  persistence  that  wins.  The  paths 
of  life  are  strewn  with  the  skeletons  of  those  who 
fainted  and  fell  in  the  march.  Life's  prizes  can  be 
won  only  by  those  who  will  not  fail.  Success  in 
every  field  must  be  reached  through  antagonism 
and  conflict. 

In  no  sphere  are  these  things  truer  than  in  the 
moral.  Many  start  well  in  the  Christian  life,  with 
rich  hope  and  glowing  ardor,  who  soon  faih     They 

125 


126  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

become  discouraged  at  tlie  liardness  and  toilsome- 
ness  of  tlic  way  or  at  the  little  ini])ression  they  are 
al)le  to  make  on  the  world,  and  grow  weary.  Such 
faint-hearted ness  will  never  win  the  honors  and 
crowns  of  immortal  life.  These  are  only  for  those 
who  overcome. 

There  are  two  ways  of  becoming  weary  in  well- 
doing. We  may  be  weary  in  it  or  of  it.  And 
there  is  an  immense  difference  in  the  two  experi- 
ences. The  best  men  may  grow  weary  in  their  ser- 
vice. Human  nature  is  frail.  We  are  not  angels, 
with  exhaustless  powers  of  endurance.  But  we  are 
to  guard  against  growing  weary  of  our  great  work, 
as  sometimes  we  are  tempted  even  to  be.  There 
are  discouragements  that  sorely  try  our  faith,  but, 
whatever  they  are,  they  should  not  be  allowed  to 
cause  us  to  faint. 

"  What  is  the  use  of  serving  God  ?"  cries  one. 
"  I  have  tried  for  years  to  be  faithful  to  him  and 
to  live  as  he  would  have  me  to  live,  but  somehow 
I  do  not  succeed  in  life.  I  have  no  blessing  on 
my  work.  My  business  does  not  prosper.  There 
is  my  neighbor,  who  never  prays,  who  disregards 
the  precepts  of  God's  word,  w^ho  desecrates  the 
Lord's  day,  whose  life  is  unjust,  hard,  false  and 
selfish.     And  yet  he  gets  along  far  better  than  I 


WEARINESS  IN  WELL-DOING.  127 

do.  What  is  the  profit  of  serving  God?"  Many 
a  good  man  has  felt  thus  in  liis  heart,  even  if  he 
has  not  spoken  his  thoughts  aloud. 

To  all  this  it  may  be  replied  that  God's  years 
are  long  and  he  is  never  in  a  hurry.  As  a  good 
Christian  man  said  to  a  scoffer  who  boasted  that 
his  crops  were  good  though  he  had  never  prayed 
for  God  to  bless  them,  while  the  Christian's  after  all 
his  praying,  had  failed,  "  The  Lord  does  not  always 
settle  his  accounts  with  men  in  the  month  of  Octo- 
ber." Besides,  worldly  prosperity  is  not  always 
promised,  nor  is  it  always  a  blessing.  There  come 
many  times  in  every  man's  life  when  trial  is  better 
than  prosperity.  A  little  with  Heaven's  bene- 
diction is  better  than  great  gains  poisoned  by  the 
curse  of  God.  Of  this  at  least  we  may  always 
be  sure  —  that  in  the  end  well-doing  will  suc- 
ceed and  ill-doing  will  bring  sorrow  and  woe. 
"  My  Lord  Cardinal,"  said  Anne  of  Austria  to 
Cardinal  Richelieu,  "  God  is  a  sure  paymaster. 
He  may  not  pay  at  the  close  of  every  week  or 
month  or  year,  but  he  pays  in  the  end." 

We  may  be  tempted  also  to  grow  weary  of  doing 
good  to  others.  There  are  things  to  discourage  if 
we  look  no  farther  than  the  present.  Attainments 
come  slowly.     The  buds  of  sj^iritual  growth  open 


128  WEEK-DAY  RELIQION. 

out  languidly  in  the  chill  climate  of  this  world. 
Men's  faults  cling  tenaciously.  Battles  are  tedious 
and  victories  come  painfully,  and  only  after  long 
and  fierce  struggle.  Everything  about  Christian 
life  is  difficult  of  attainment.  In  the  ardor  of  his 
youthful  zeal  and  the  glow  of  his  yet  untried  and 
unbaffled  hope,  the  young  Christian  is  apt  to  feel 
that  everything  is  going  to  yield  at  once  to  his 
strokes.  He  expects  to  see  every  touch  of  his  tell 
on  men.  He  looks  for  immediate  results  in  every 
case.  He  has  large  hope  and  enthusiasm,  but  has 
not  strong  faith.  He  begins,  and  soon  discovers  his 
mistake.  People  are  pleased  with  his  earnestness, 
but  their  stubborn  hearts  do  not  vield.  He  finds 
himself  beating  against  stone  walls.  Results  do 
not  appear.  To  him  this  is  strange  and  discour- 
aging, but  it  has  always  been  so.  Many  people 
reject  the  blessings  God  is  sending  to  their  doors. 
We  come  to  them  laden  with  rich  spiritual  things, 
and  they  turn  away  to  chase  some  vanishing  illu- 
sion. We  tell  them  of  Christ,  and  they  turn  to 
listen  to  the  siren  song  that  would  lure  them  on 
the  rocks  of  ruin.  That  this  is  disheartening 
cannot  be  denied. 

But  does  not  God  behold  our  work?     Does  he 
not  see  our  toil  and  our  tears  ?    Does  he  not  witness 


WEABINESS  IN  WELL-DOING.  129 

our  faithfulness  in  his  service  ?  Suppose  the  seed 
does  fall  partly  on  the  hard-trodden  roadway  and 
yield  no  fruit ;  will  the  sower  fail  of  his  reward  ? 
Will  he  be  forgotten  in  that  day  when  God  re- 
members his  faithful  ones  ?  No  !  Though  men 
may  reject  your  message,  if  you  have  given  it 
faithfully  and  with  true  motive,  you  shall  be 
blessed. 

^^But  men  are  ungrateful."  Yery  true.  You 
minister  to  those  who  are  in  need,  taking  the  bread 
from  your  own  plate  to  feed  their  hunger,  deny- 
ing yourself  necessary  things  to  give  to  them  ;  you 
visit  and  care  for  them  in  sickness ;  you  spend  time 
and  money  to  relieve  them.  Then,  so  soon  as  the 
trouble  is  past  and  they  need  your  money  or  help 
no  longer,  they  turn  away  from  you  as  if  you  had 
wronged  them.  Almost  rarest  of  human  virtues 
is  true  gratitude.  The  one  may  return,  but  the 
nine  come  no  more.  Many  a  faithful  Christian, 
having  spent  time  and  means  in  relieving  distress 
only  to  be  forgotten  by,  and  perhaps  even  to  receive 
wrong  from,  those  he  has  aided,  becomes  weary, 
and  says,  "  It  is  of  no  use ;  I  will  try  it  no  more." 

I  know  how  much  sweeter  it  is  to  work  for 
those  who  are  grateful,  who  remember  our  kind- 
ness, who  speak  their  thanks  and  return  love  for 


130  WEEK-DAY  BEL  10 ION. 

fvcrv  favor  shown.  It  liLrlitens  one's  burdens. 
Grateful  words  are  like  cups  of  cold  water  to  one 
who  is  weary  and  faint;  and  surely  it  is  fit  that 
men  should  be  grateful. 

But  suppose  they  are  not.  Su})pose  years  of 
kindness  are  forgotten  in  a  moment.  Suppose 
great  sacrifices  are  never  thought  of  again.  Sup- 
pose deeds  of  love  are  rewarded  with  insult,  injury, 
calumny,  wrong,  or  with  the  stab  of  malice.  Do 
these  returns  rob  you  of  those  higher  rewards 
which  God  promises  to  every  self-denial  made  for 
his  sake?  Suppose  one  has  to  go  through  this 
world  weary  and  lonelv,  L^ivinij::  out  his  life  in  un- 
sparing  measure  for  others,  and  receiving  only 
neglect,  ingratitude,  even  persecution.  Suppose 
one  is  misunderstood,  as  so  many  good  people  are, 
his  motives  misrepresented,  misconstrued,  falsified. 
Suppose  one  is  maligned,  calumniated,  abused. 
Because  earth  misconstrues  and  misunderstands, 
will  heaven  ?  No ;  there  is  one  place  where  men 
are  understood  and  their  work  and  worth  appre- 
ciated. No  good  deed  will  be  forgotten  there. 
No  lowly  sacrifice  will  be  overlooked.  There  will 
be  commendation  and  reward  there.  We  may  not 
reap  here,  but  we  shtiU  reap  nevertheless. 

Then  many  who  ap])eal  to  us  for  aid  are  utterly 


WEARINESS  IN  WELL-DOING.  131 

unworthy.  Those  who  dispense  charity  have  to 
resort  to  all  manner  of  care  and  pains  to  protect 
themselves  against  imposition.  A  pitiful  story  is 
told — pitiful  enough  to  melt  the  heart  of  a  miser. 
You  give  money,  and  the  treacherous  recipient 
steals  into  the  nearest  dram-shop  and  spends  it 
for  strong  drink.  Or  you  ask  where  the  appli- 
cant lives,  and,  being  reluctantly  informed,  you  go 
miles  away,  to  JSnd  that  no  such  person  ever  lived 
there.  The  result  of  such  discoveries,  unless  we 
are  careful,  is  that  the  warmest  hearts  are  closed 
against  all  appeals  for  help.  The  tendency  is  to 
chill  and  freeze  the  fountains  of  our  charity  and 
to  stay  their  outflow  toward  the  needy.  We  are 
tempted  to  say,  "  Giving  money  is  only  throwing 
it  away ;  it  is  charity  wasted  as  utterly  as  fra- 
grance in  the  desert.'^ 

It  certainly  is  disheartening  to  labor  for  months 
to  try  to  help  some  one,  only  to  have  him  prove 
unworthy  in  the  end.  It  seems  like  building  a 
house  of  the  costliest  materials  in  a  quagmire 
only  to  sink  away  out  of  sight.  Yet  they  are  dig- 
ging up  in  these  days  buried  palaces  and  cities  in 
the  Old  World  which  have  long  been  hidden  out 
of  sight.  So  work  may  seem  to  sink  away  and  be 
lost,  but  God  will  let  nothing  be  lost  that  is  done 


132  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

for  his  name.  It  will  reappear  in  the  end.  Ife 
is  faithiiil,  and  -will  not  forget  your  work  and  labor 
of  love.  Yon  will  be  rewarded,  even  though  your 
work  has  been  expended  on  unworthy  beneficiaries. 
Though  the  recipient  of  your  charity  turned  out 
an  impostor,  yet,  if  it  was  bestowed  in  Christ's 
name  and  for  his  sake,  he  will  say  at  the  last, 
"  Ye  did  it  unto  me." 

Another  is  discouraged  because  there  seems  no 
blessing  on  his  work. 

You  are  a  parent,  and  you  have  been  laboring 
and  praying  for  years  for  your  child's  salvation,  yet 
you  do  not  see  the  hoped-for  result.  You  are  a 
teacher,  and  although  you  toil  with  all  your  might, 
you  do  not  notice  any  impression  on  the  lives  of 
those  you  teach.  Or  you  are  a  preacher,  and  you 
preach  with  all  diligence  and  faithfulness,  but  men 
do  not  turn  to  the  Lord,  and  you  are  heavy-heart- 
ed and  sometimes  tempted  to  give  it  all  up  in  de- 
spair. 

But  do  you  really  know  that  your  work  is  not 
blessed  ?  Do  you  know  that  there  are  no  results  ? 
Things  are  not  what  they  seem.  The  quickest, 
most  evident  successes,  as  they  appear  to  us,  are 
often  in  reality  the  worst  failures.  The  least  comes 
of  them  in  the  end.     In  Christian  work  we  have 


WEARINESS  IN  WELL-DOING.  133 

frequently  to  discount  sudden  and  tropical  growths, 
or  at  least  to  fear  for  their  genuineness  and  perma- 
nence. The  quiet  and  gradual  growth  is  usually 
the  truest. 

Then  we  cannot  measure  spiritual  results  as  we 
can  those  which  are  physical.  The  artist  sees  the 
picture  growing  upon  his  canvas  as  he  works  day 
by  day.  The  builder  sees  the  wall  rising  as  he 
lays  stone  uj^on  stone.  But  the  spiritual  builder 
is  working  wath  invisible  blocks,  is  rearing  a  fabric 
whose  walls  he  cannot  see.  The  spiritual  artist  is 
painting  away  in  the  unseen.  His  eyes  cannot  be- 
hold the  impressions,  the  touches  of  beauty  he 
makes. 

Sometimes  the  results  of  work  on  human  lives 
may  be  seen  in  the  expansion  and  beautifying  of 
character,  in  the  conversion  of  the  ungodly,  in  the 
comforting  of  sorrow,  in  the  uplifting  and  enno- 
bling of  the  degraded ;  and  yet  much  of  our  work 
must  be  done  in  simple  faith,  and  perhaps  in  hea- 
ven it  will  be  seen  that  the  best  results  of  our 
lives  have  been  from  their  unconscious  influences, 
and  our  most  fruitful  efforts  those  we  considered 
in  vain. 

The  old  water-wheel  turns  round  and  round  out- 
side the  wall.     It  seems  to  be  idle  work  that  it  is 


134  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

doing.  You  see  nothing  acconi])lis]io(l.  But  its 
shaft  runs  through  the  mill-wall  and  turns  a  great 
system  of  machinery  there,  and  makes  bread  to  feed 
many  a  hungry  mouth.  So  we  toil  away,  many 
of  us,  and  oftentimes  see  no  rewards  or  fruits. 
But  if  we  are  true  to  God,  we  are  making  results 
somewhere  for  his  glory  and  the  good  of  others. 
The  shaft  runs  through  into  the  unseen  and  turns 
wheels  there,  preparing  blessings  and  food  for 
hungry  lives.  No  true  work  for  Christ  can  ev^er 
fail.  Somewhere,  some  time,  somehow, 'there  will 
be  results.  We  need  not  be  discouraged  or  dis- 
heartened, for  in  due  time  we  shall  reap  if  we 
faint  not.     But  what  if  we  faint  ? 


XIV. 

WAYSIDE  MINISTRIES. 

"I  expect  to  pass  through  this  world  but  once.  If,  there- 
fore, there  be  any  kindness  I  can  do  to  any  fellow-being,  let 
me  do  it  now.  Let  me  not  defer  or  neglect  it,  for  I  shall 
not  pass  this  way  again." 

rriHERE  are  two  ways  in  which  all  of  iis  work, 
and  two  classes  of  results  which  flow  from  our 
lives.  There  are  things  we  do  purposely — that  we 
deliberately  plan  to  do.  We  take  pains  to  do  them. 
We  spend  long  years  oftentimes  in  fitting  ourselves 
to  do  them.  They  cost  us  thought  and  care.  We 
travel  many  miles,  perchance,  to  perform  them. 
They  are  the  things  we  live  to  do. 

Then  there  are  other  things  we  do  that  have 
formed  no  part  of  our  plan.  We  did  not  set  out 
in  the  morning  to  accomplish  them.  They  are 
unplanned,  unpurposed  things,  not  premeditated 
or  prearranged.  They  are  wayside  ministries. 
They  are  the  little  things  w^e  do  between  the  greater 
things.     They  are  the  seeds  we  drop  by  chance  from 

135 


1 36  WEEK-DA  Y  REUOIOK 

oiir  hand  in  tlie  path  as  we  fjo  out  to  the  broad 
field  to  sow.  They,  are  the  minor  kin(hie.sses  and 
eourtesies  that  fill  up  the  interstices  of  our  busy 
days.  They  are  the  little  flowers  and  lowly  plants 
that  grow  in  the  shade  of  the  majestic  trees  or  hid- 
den away  like  violets  under  the  taller  ])lants  and 
shrubs.  They  are  the  smaller  o])portunities  of 
usefuhiess  which  open  to  us  as  we  carry  our  great 
responsibilities.  They  are  the  things  of  which  we 
take  no  note,  and  perhaps  retain  no  memory — mere 
touches  given  as  we  hasten  by,  words  dropped  as 
we  pass  along. 

We  set  no  store  by  this  part  of  our  life-work. 
We  do  not  expect  to  see  any  result  from  it.  We 
pride  ourselves  on  our  great  masterpieces.  We 
point  to  them  as  the  things  which  fitly  represent 
us,  the  things  in  which  we  hope  to  live. 

And  yet  oftentimes  these  unpurposed  things  are 
the  holiest  and  most  beautiful  thinfrs  we  do,  far 
outshining  those  which  we  ourselves  prize  so  highly. 
I  believe  that  when  the  books  are  opened  it  will  be 
seen  that  the  very  best  j^arts  of  many  lives  are  the 
parts  by  which  they  set  no  store  and  from  which 
they  expected  no  outcome,  no  fruits,  while  the  things 
they  took  pride  in  and  wrought  with  plan  and 
pains  shall  prove  to  be  of  but  small  value.     Our 


WAYSIDE  MINISTRIES.  137 

Lord  tells  us  that  the  righteous  shall  be  surprised 
in  the  judgment  to  hear  of  noble  deeds  wrought 
by  them  of  which  they  have  no  knowledge  or 
recollection.  No  doubt  there  is  a  wondrous  amount 
of  good  done  unconsciously  of  which  the  doers 
shall  never  be  aware  until  it  is  disclosed  in  the 
future  life. 

It  is  said  that  when  Thorwaldsen,  the  Danish 
sculptor,  returned  to  his  native  land  with  those 
rare  works  of  art  which  have  made  his  name 
immortal,  chiseled  in  Italy  with  patient  toil  and 
glowing  inspiration,  the  servants  who  unpacked 
the  marbles  scattered  upon  the  ground  the  straw 
which  was  wrapped  around  them.  The  next  sum- 
mer flowers  from  the  gardens  of  Rome  were  bloom- 
ing in  the  streets  of  Copenhagen  from  the  seeds 
thus  borne  and  planted  by  accident.  While  pur- 
suing his  glorious  purpose  and  leaving  magnificent 
results  in  breathing  marble,  he  was  at  the  same 
time,  and  unconsciously,  scattering  other  beautiful 
things  in  his  path  to  give  cheer  and  gladness. 

And  so,  in  all  true  living,  while  men  execute 
their  greater  plans,  they  are  ever  unintentionally 
performing  a  series  of  secondary  acts  which  often 
yield  most  beneficent  and  farreaching  results. 
There  is  a  wayside  ministry,  for  instance,  made  up 


138  WEEK-JJAY  liELIGION. 

of  countless  little  courtesies,  gentle  words,  mere 
passing  touches  on  the  lives  of  those  we  meet 
casually,  impulses  given  by  our  salutations,  influ- 
ences flowing  indirectly  from  the  things  we  do 
and  the  words  we  speak — a  ministry  undesigned, 
unplanned,  unnoted,  merely  incidental — and  yet  it 
is  impossible  to  measure  the  results  of  these  acci- 
dents of  usefulness. 

We  go  out  in  the  morning  to  our  round  of  duties, 
and  perform  them  with  more  or  less  faithfulness 
and  effectiveness.  But  during  the  busy  hours  of 
the  day  we  find  opportunity  for  doing  many  minor 
kindnesses.  We  meet  a  friend  on  the  street  whose 
heart  is  heavy,  and  we  stop  to  speak  a  word  of 
thoughtful  cheer  and  hope  which  sings  in  his  ear 
like  a  bar  of  angels'  song  all  day  long.  We  ring  a 
neighbor's  door-bell,  as  we  go  out  from  dinner,  to 
inquire  for  his  sick  child,  and  there  is  a  little  more 
brightness  in  that  sad  home  all  the  afternoon  be- 
cause of  this  thoughtful ness.  We  walk  a  few  steps 
with  a  young  man  who  is  in  danger  of  slipping  out 
of  the  wav,  and  let  fall  a  sincere  word  of  interest 
which  he  will  remember  and  whi(;h  may  help  to 
save  him. 

All  sorts  of  people  come  to  us  on  all  sorts  of 
errands  during  the  day.     We  cannot  talk  much  to 


WAYSIDE  MINISTBIES.  139 

each,  and  yet  we  may  drop  into  each  heart  a  word 
of  kindness  that  will  prove  a  seed  of  beauty.     We 
meet    people    in  business  relations.      To   talk    to 
them  on  religious  themes  may  be  neither  practi- 
cable nor  expedient.     And  yet  there  is  not  one  of 
them  to  whom  we  may  not  minister  in  some  way. 
One  man  has  had  sorrow  in  his  home.     His  face 
carries  the  marks  of  sore  struggle  and  inward  pain. 
By  a  gentler  bearing,  a  mellowed  speech,  a  heartier 
hand-grasp  or  longer  pressure,  and  a  thoughtful  ex- 
pression of  the  sympathy  and  interest  we  feel,  we 
send  him  away  strangely  comforted.     Another  is 
staggering  under  financial  burdens,  and  a  hopeful 
word   gives  him   courage  to   stand    more   bravely 
under  his  load.      We  are  writinir  business  letters, 
and  we  put  in  a  personal   sentence  or  a  kindly  in- 
quiry,  revealing   a   human   heart   even   amid   the 
great  clashing,  grinding  wheels  of  business,  and  it 
carries  a  pulse  of  better  feeling  into  some  dingy  of- 
fice and  some  dreary  treadmill  life  far  away.     JSiot 
one  of  these  things  have  we  done  with  any  clear 
thought,  or  even  consciousness,  of  doing  good,  and 
yet,  like   the    flower-seeds  the  sculptor  bore  back 
amid  the  wrappings    of    his    marbles,    they   yield 
loveliness  and  fragrance  to   brighten  many  a  bare 
and  toilsome  path. 


140  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

Social  life  presents  also  countless  opportunities 
for  these  wayside  ministries.  It  would  be  hard  to 
imagine  anything  more  icy  and  cold,  more  devoid 
of  the  sweet  charities  of  life,  than  much  of  the 
formal  intercourse  of  society,  especially  in  circles 
of  wealth  and  fashion.  It  is  regulated  by  arbitrary 
rules  which  leave  no  room  for  tender  heart-play. 
It  is  oftentimes  insincere.  The  staple  of  its  con- 
versation is  the  emptiest  of  idle  gossip  or  the  most 
merciless  dissection  of  character. 

And  yet  what  opportunities  does  this  very  social 
intercourse  afford  for  the  most  beautiful  wayside 
ministries !  What  words  of  kindness  can  be 
spoken  !  how  often,  too,  where  they  are  most  sorely 
needed  and  craved !  There  are  hearts  starving 
under  these  icy  formalities.  There  are  gentle 
spirits  amid  all  this  mad  whirl  that  long  for  some- 
thing true  and  real.  There  are  sorrows  under  all 
this  glitter.  The  doors  are  shut  to  those  who  come 
professedly  to  bring  blessing.  Even  Christ  stands 
outside,  perchance,  knocking  in  vain.  There  is  no 
open  entrance  to  any  who  would  come  with  avowed 
intent  to  do  good.  And  yet  the  Christian  woman 
who  enters  the  doors,  even  in  the  most  formal  way, 
may  carry  with  her  Heaven^s  sweetest  benedictions. 
Many  earnest  Christians  in  early,  primitive  days  vol- 


WAYSIDE  MINISTRIES.  141 

uiitarily  became  slaves  to  gain  access  to  the  homes 
of  the  noble  that  they  might  at  least  live  out  the 
holy  religion  of  Jesus  in  the  heart  of  their  house- 
holds, and  perchance  win  souls  for  heaven.  Mis- 
sionaries study  medicine  that  they  may  be  admitted 
into  the  homes  of  the  people  as  physicians,  and 
Avhile  there  in  that  capacity  they  cannot  but  scatter 
some  of  the  holy  fragrance  of  the  love  of  Christ. 
To  those  whose  hearts  are  full  of  the  spirit  of 
grace  there  are  large  opportunities  for  quiet  and  un- 
purposed usefulness  opened  in  the  formalities  of 
social  life.  There  need  be  nothing  ostentatious  : 
indeed,  ostentation  shuts  the  door  at  once.  What 
is  wanted  is  a  deep  and  sincere  piety  that  breathes 
out  unconsciously  in  face  and  word  and  act  and 
manner,  like  the  fragrance  of  a  flower,  like  the 
shining  of  a  star,  like  the  irresistible  charm  of 
rare  beauty  or  tender  music.  Indeed,  its  uncon- 
sciousness is  its  greatest  power.  She  who  goes 
intending  to  say  certain  things  or  carry  certain 
blessings  or  leave  certain  influences  may  fail.  But, 
going  from  house  to  house  with  a  soul  full  of  good- 
ness, purity  and  love,  with  a  heart  sincerely  long- 
ing to  leave  blessing  everywhere,  with  a  speech 
seasoned  with  grace  and  breathing  kindness  and 
peace,  it  is  impossible  not  to  leave  heavenly  influ- 


142  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

ences  in  every  drawing-room,  rnipulses  are  given 
to  better  life.  Strength  is  imparted  to  struggling 
weakness.  Comfort  is  breathed  softly  into  hearts 
that  are  sore  with  grief.  Flowers  from  heaven's 
gardens  are  j)lanted  in  earthly  soil.  Glimj)ses  into 
a  new  and  richer  life  are  given.  No  woman  with 
deep  piety  in  her  heart  and  Christlike  grace  in  her 
life  can  go  in  and  out  in  the  formal  routine  of  so- 
cial life  and  not  unwittingly  perform  a  blessed 
ministry  of  good,  leaving  behind  her  many  a  bit 
of  brightness  and  many  a  lovely  flower. 

Although  unnoted  on  earth  and  unprized,  the  re- 
sults of  such  ministry  may  outshine  in  splendor,  in 
the  great  disclosure,  the  things  to  which  most  toil 
and  thought  have  been  given. 

In  every  life  there  are  these  oj)portunities  for 
wayside  ministry.  Indeed,  the  voluntary  activities 
of  any  life  do  not  by  any  means  measure  its  influ- 
ence. The  things  we  do  with  deliberate  intention 
make  but  a  small  ])art  of  the  sum-total  of  our 
life-results.  Our  influence  has  no  nights  and  keeps 
no  Sabbaths.  It  is  continuous  as  life  itself.  We 
are  leaving  impressions  all  the  while  on  other  lives. 
There  is  a  ministry  in  our  handshaking,  in  our 
greeting,  in  the  most  casual  conversation,  in  the 
very  expression   we  wear  on  our  faces  as  we  move 


WAYSIDE  MINISTRIES.  143 

along  the  street,  in  the  gentle  sympathy  that  adds 
such  a  thrill  of  strength  to  fainting  weariness, 

"  Like  moonliglit  on  a  troubled  sea, 
Brightening  the  storm  it  cannot  calm." 

To  meet  some  people  on  the  sidewalk  and  have 
their  cheery  "  Good-morning  !"  makes  one  happier 
all  day.  To  encounter  others  is  as  dispiriting  as 
meeting  a  funeral-procession.  There  is  a  magic 
potency  always  in  a  sunny  face.  There  is  a  holy 
aroma  always  about  unselfish  love.  A  joyful  per- 
son scatters  gladness  like  song-notes.  A  conse- 
crated Christian  life  sheds  a  tender  warmth  wherever 
it  moves.  What  a  wondrous  sphere  of  usefulness 
is  thus  opened  to  every  one  of  us  !  Preparation  for 
it  is  best  made  by  heart-culture. 

It  is  purity,  truth,  helpfulness  and  love  that  sanc- 
tify the  influence.  Full  of  Christ,  wherever  we 
move  we  leave  brightness  and  joy.  Amid  the 
busiest  scenes,  when  engaged  in  the  most  momen- 
tous labors,  we  carry  on  at  the  same  time  a  quiet, 
unpurposed  ministry  whose  results  shall  spring  up 
in  our  pathway  like  lovely  flowers,  or  echo  again  in 
the  hearts  of  others  in  notes  of  holy  song,  or  glow 
in  human  lives  in  touches  of  radiant  beauty. 


XV. 

THE  BEAUTY  OF  QUIET  LIVES. 

In  one  of  his   poems  Robert  Browning  represents  the  arch- 
angel Gabriel  taking  a  poor  boy's  place: 

"Then  to  his  poor  trade  he  turned 
By  whicli  the  daily  bread  was  earned; 
And  ever  o'er  the  trade  he  bent, 
And  ever  lived  on  earth  content; 
He  did  God's  will — to  him  all  one 
If  on  the  earth  or  in  the  sun." 

1% /TANY  people  measure  a  man's  power  or  effect- 
-^  iveness  by  the  noise  he  makes  in  the  world. 
But  this  standard  is  not  always  correct.  The  drum 
makes  vastly  more  noise  than  the  flute,  but  for  true, 
soul-thrilling  music  and  soothing  power  the  flute 
is  a  thousand  times  more  effective.  Young  men, 
when  they  start  in  life,  usually  think  they  must 
make  all  the  noise  they  can,  else  their  lives  will  be 
failures.  They  must  make  their  voices  heard  loud 
abov^e  the  din  and  clamor  of  the  world,  else  they 
must  remain  unknown  and  die  in  obscurity.  But 
thoughtful,  observant  years  always  prove  how  little 

144 


THE  BEAUTY  OF  QUIET  LIVES.  145 

real  power  there  is  in  "  the  bray  of  brass.'^  Life  is 
measured  by  its  final  and  permanent  resalts.  jS[ot 
by  the  place  a  man  occupies  before  the  public  and 
the  frequency  and  loudness  of  his  utterances,  but 
by  the  benefits  and  blessings  which  he  leaves  be- 
hind him  in  other  lives,  must  his  true  effectiveness 
be  rated.  It  will  be  seen,  in  the  great  consumma- 
tion, that  those  who  have  wrought  silently  and  with- 
out clamor  or  fame  have  in  many  cases  achieved 
the  most  glorious  permanent  results. 

"What  shall  I  do  lest  life  in  silence  pass? 

And  if  it  do, 
And  never  prompt  the  bray  of  brass, 

What  need'st  thou  rue? 
Remember  aye  the  ocean's  deeps  are  mute — 

The  shallows  roar; 
Worth  is  the  ocean  :  fame  is  the  bruit 

Along  the  shore." 

There  are  great  multitudes  of  lowly  lives  lived 
on  the  earth  which  have  no  name  among  men, 
whose  work  no  pen  records,  no  marble  immortal- 
izes, but  which  are  well  known  and  unspeakably 
dear  to  God,  and  whose  influence  will  be  seen,  in 
the  end,  to  reach  to  farthest  shores.  They  make  no 
noise  in  the  world,  but  it  needs  not  noise  to  make 
a  life  beautiful  and  noble.  Many  of  God's  most 
potent  ministries  are  noiseless.      Plow  silently  all 

10 


146  wi:ek-day  religion. 

day  long  the  siinboains  fall  upon  the  fields  and 
gardens  !  and  yet  what  cheer,  what  inspiration,  what 
life  and  beauty,  they  difTuse !  How  silently  the 
flowers  bloom  !  and  yet  what  rich  blessings  of  fra- 
grance do  they  emit !  How  silently  the  stars  move 
on  in  their  majestic  marches  around  God^s' throne  ! 
and  yet  the  telescope  shows  us  that  they  are  mighty 
worlds  or  great  central  suns  representing  utterly 
incalculable  power.  How  silently  the  angels  work, 
stepping  with  noiseless  tread  through  our  homes  and 
performing  ever  their  tireless  ministries  for  us  and 
about  us !  Who  hears  the  flutter  of  their  wings  or 
the  whisper  of  their  tongues?  and  yet  they  throng 
along  our  path  and  bring  ricii  joys  of  comfort, 
suggestion,  protection,  guidance  and  strength  to 
us  every  dav.  How  silently  God  himself  works ! 
He  gives  his  blessing  while  we  sleep.  He  makes 
no  ado.  We  hear  not  his  Ibotfalls,  and  yet  he  is 
ever  moving  about  us  and  ministering  to  us  in  ten 
thousand  ways  and  ))ringing  to  us  the  rarest  and 
finest  gifts  of  his  love.  Then  who  does  not  re- 
member the  noiselessness  of  our  liord's  human  life 
on  the  earth?  He  did  not  strive  or  cry,  nor  did 
men  Ik  ar  his  voice  on  the  street.  He  sought  not, 
but  rather  shunned,  publicity  and  notoriety.  His 
wondrous  power  was  life-power,  heart-power,  which 


THE  BEAUTY  OF  QUIET  LIVES.  147 

he  shed  forth  in  silent  influence  among  the  people, 
but  which  is  pulsing  yet  in  all  lands,  in  millions 
of  hearts,  and  in  all  the  vast  abodes  of  redeemed 
spirits. 

And  many  of  our  Lord's  earthly  servants  have 
caught  his  spirit,  and  work  so  quietly  that  they  are 
scarcely  recognized  among  men  as  workers.  In 
their  humility  they  do  not  even  suppose  themselves 
to  be  of  any  use  and  mourn  over  their  unprofit- 
ableness as  Christ's  servants,  and  yet  in  heaven 
they  are  written  down  as  among  the  very  noblest 
of  his  ministers.  They  do  no  great  things,  but 
their  lives  are  full  of  radiations  of  blessing.  There 
is  a  quiet  and  unconscious  influence  ever  going 
forth  from  them  that  falls  like  a  benediction  on 
every  life  that  comes  into  their  shadow;  for  it  is 
not  only  our  elaborately-wrought  deeds  that  leave 
results  behind.  Much  of  the  best  work  we  do  in 
this  world  is  done  unconsciously.  There  are  many 
people  who  are  so  busied  in  what  is  called  secular 
toil  that  they  can  find  few  moments  to  give  to 
works  of  benevolence.  But  they  come  out  every 
morning  from  the  presence  of  God  and  go  to  their 
daily  business  or  toil,  and  all  day,  as  they  move 
about,  they  drop  gentle  words  from  their  lips  and 
scatter  seeds  of  kindness   along  their  path.     To- 


148  WEEK- DA  Y  BEL  10 ION. 

morrow  flowers  of  the  garden  of  God  .sj)rlng  up 
in  the  liard,  dusty  streets  of  eartli  and  along  the 
paths  of  toil  in  wliich  their  feet  liave  trodden. 

More  than  once  in  the  Scriptures  the  lives  of 
God's  people  in  this  world  are  compared  to  the 
dew.  There  may  be  other  points  of  analogy,  but 
especially  uoteworthy  is  the  quiet  manner  in  which 
the  dew  performs  its  ministry.  It  falls  silently 
and  imperceptibly.  It  makes  no  noise.  No  one 
hears  it  dropping.  It  chooses  the  darkness  of  the 
night,  when  men  are  sleeping  and  when  no  one  can 
witness  its  beautiful  work.  It  covers  the  leaves 
with  clusters  of  pearls.  It  steals  into  the  bosom 
of  the  flower,  and  leaves  a  new  cupful  of  sweetness 
there.  It  pours  itself  down  among  the  roots  of 
the  grasses  and  tender  herbs  and  plants.  In  the 
morning  there  is  fresh  beauty  everywhere,  and  new 
life.  The  fields  look  greener,  the  gardens  are  more 
fragrant  and  all  nature  glows  and  sparkles  with  a 
new  splendor. 

Is  there  no  suo-o-estion  here  as  to  the  manner  in 
which  we  should  seek  to  do  good  in  this  world  ? 
Sliould  it  not  be  our  aim  to  have  our  influence  felt 
rather  than  to  be  seen  and  heard?  Should  we 
not  desire  to  scatter  blessings  so  silently  and  so 
secretly  that  no  one  shall  know  what  hand  dropped 


THE  BEAUTY  OF  QUIET  LIVES.  149 

them?  The  whole  spirit  of  our  Lord's  teaching 
confirms  this :  "  When  thou  doest  thine  alms,  let 
not  thy  left  hand  know  what  thy  right  hand  doeth, 
that  thine  alms  may  he  in  secret"  We  are  com- 
manded not  to  seek  the  praise  of  men — not  to  do 
good  deeds  to  be  seen  of  men  or  to  receive  reward 
of  them.  We  are  not  to  sound  trumpets  or  an- 
nounce our  righteous  acts  from  the  housetop. 

Translated  into  the  phrase  of  daily  life,  these 
injunctions  would  seem  to  mean  that  we  are  not 
to  seek  to  have  all  our  benevolent  acts  published 
in  the  newspapers.  They  would  seem  to  mean 
that  we  should  not  desire  publicity  and  human 
praise  for  every  generous  thing  we  do,  every  sacri- 
fice we  make  and  every  kindness  we  show.  They 
seem,  indeed,  to  imply  that  we  should  even  take 
pains  not  to  have  our  good  deeds  made  known  at 
all — that  we  should  seek  to  perform  them  so  silent- 
ly and  secretly  that  the  world  may  never  hear  any 
report  of  them.  When  the  motive  is  to  receive 
praise  of  men  or  to  exhibit  our  goodness,  the  act 
loses  its  beauty  in  God's  sight. 

This  test  applied  may  find  many  of  us  wanting. 
Are  we  willing  to  be  as  the  dew — to  steal  abroad 
in  the  darkness,  carrying  blessings  to  men's  doors 
which  shall  enrich  them  and  do  them  good  and 


150  WEEK-BAY  RELIGION. 

give  tlu'iii  joy,  and  tlicn  steal  away  again  ])of()re 
they  awake  to  know  what  hand  brought  the  gift? 
Are  we  willing  to  work  without  gratitude,  without 
recognition,  without  human  praise,  without  return? 
Are  we  content  to  have  our  lives  poured  out  like 
the  dew  to  bless  the  world  and  make  it  more  fruit- 
ful, and  yet  to  remain  hidden  away  ourselves — to 
see  the  effects  of  our  toil  and  sacrifice  all  about 
us  in  brightened  homes  and  bettered  character,  in 
beauties  and  joys  springing  up,  in  renewed  society, 
in  good  institutions,  and  in  benefits  prepared  by 
our  hands  and  enjoyed  by  others,  and  yet  never  to 
hear  our  names  spoken  in  praise  or  honor,  perhaps 
to  hear  the  shouts  of  applause  given  to  the  names 
of  others? 

And  yet  is  it  not  thus  that  we  are  to  live  as  fol- 
lowers of  Christ?  Honor  is  to  be  sought  for  him. 
We  are  to  seek  to  be  blessings  in  the  world,  to 
breathe  inspiration  everywhere,  to  shed  quickening 
influences  upon  other  lives,  to  impart  helpfulness 
and  noble  impulse  to  all  we  meet,  and  then  to  dis- 
appear, so  that  men  may  not  praise  us,  but  may 
lift  their  hearts  to  Christ  alone.  Florence  Nightin- 
gale, having  gone  like  an  angel  of  mercy  among 
the  hospitals  in  the  Crimea  until  her  name  was 
enshrined  in  every  soldier's  heart,  asked  to  be  ex- 


THE  BEAUTY  OF  QUIET  LIVES.  151 

cused  from  having  her  picture  taken,  as  tlionsands 
begged,  that  she  might  drop  out  and  be  forgotten, 
and  that  Christ  alone  might  be  remembered  as  the 
author  of  the  blessings  her  hands  had  ministered. 
That  is  the  true  Christian  spirit. 

And  in  this  way  we  may  all  learn  to  live  too 
if  we  will.  In  this  way  countless  lowly  ones  have 
lived,  and  are  living  continually. 

There  are  mothers  who  sometimes  fret  because 
their  spheres  of  usefulness  seem  so  circumscribed. 
They  long  to  be  able  to  do  grand  things,  like  the 
few  who  are  lifted  above  the  common  level,  and 
to  be  permitted  to  live  their  lives  on  the  mountain- 
top  in  the  gaze  of  the  world.  But  they,  in  very 
truth,  have  far  grander  fields  than  they  dream. 
No  one  who  lives  for  God  and  for  love  can  be 
called  obscure.  Do  not  the  angels  watch?  Does 
not  all  heaven  behold?  Is  any  one  obscure  who 
has  heaven  for  an  amphitheatre?  Then  who  can 
tell  the  mighty,  farreaching  influence  of  the  life 
of  a  lowly  mother  who  lives  for  her  children? 
Mothers  have  lived  in  hardship  and  obscurity, 
training  sons  to  move  the  world,  and  they  have 
lived  to  good  purpose. 

The  best  work  of  the  true  parent  and  teacher  is 
quiet,  unconscious  work.      It  is  not  what  a  man 


152  wJ':p:k-t)ay^  religion. 

says  or  does  piir])osely  and  with  direct  intention 
that  leaves  the  deepest  mark  in  the  world  and  in 
otlier  lives,  bnt  it  is  the  unconscious,  unpurposed 
influences  which  go  out  from  him  like  the  per- 
fumes from  a  garden,  whether  he  wakes  or  sleeps, 
whether  he  is  present  or  absent.  God  seems  to 
blight  the  things  that  we  are  proud  of  and  to  make 
them  come  to  uaught.  Then,  when  we  are  not 
intending  to  do  anything  grand,  he  uses  us  and  our 
work  for  noble  purposes  and  to  make  lasting  im- 
pressions on  the  world  and  its  life. 

It  is  the  quiet,  unheralded  lives  that  are  silently 
building  up  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  f  Not  much 
note  is  taken  of  them  here.  They  are  not  report- 
ed in  the  newspapers.  Their  monuments  will  not 
make  much  show  in  the  churchyard.  Their  names 
will  not  be  passed  down  to  posterity  with  many 
wreaths  about  them.  But  their  work  is  blessed, 
and  not  one  of  them  is  forgotten. 

Long,  long  centuries  ago  a  little  fern-leaf  grew 
in  a  valley.  Its  veins  were  delicate  and  its  fibres 
tender.  It  was  very  beautiful,  but  it  fell  and  per- 
ished. It  seemed  useless  and  lost,  for  surely  it 
had  made  no  history  and  left  no  impression  in  this 
world.  But  wait.  The  other  day  a  thoughtful 
man   searching   Nature's   secrets    came    with   pick 


THE  BEAUTY  OF  QUIET  LIVES.  153 

and  hammer  and  broke  off  a  piece  of  rock,  and 
there  on  it  his  eyes  traced 

"  Fairy  pencilings,  a  quaint  design, 
Leafage,  veining,  fibres,  clear  and  fine, 
And  the  fern's  life  lay  in  every  line. 
So,  I  think,  God  hides  some  souls  away, 
Sweetly  to  surprise  us  at  the  last  day." 

Not  a  life  lived  for  God  is  useless  or  lost.  The 
lowliest  writes  its  history  and  leaves  its  impression 
somewhere,  and  God  will  open  his  books  at  the 
last,  and  men  and  angels  will  read  the  record.  In 
this  world  these  quiet  lives  are  like  those  modest 
lowly  flowers  which  make  no  show,  but  which 
hidden  away  under  the  tall  plants  and  grasses,  pour 
out  sweet  perfumes  and  fill  the  air  with  their  odors. 
And  in  heaven  thev  will  receive  their  reward — not 
praise  of  men,  but  open  confession  by  the  Lord 
himself — in  the  presence  of  the  angels  and  of  the 
Father. 


.y 


XVI. 

KINDNESS  THAT  COMES  TOO  LATE. 

"  What  use  for  the  rope  if  it  be  not  flung 
Till  the  swimmer's  grasp  to  the  rock  has  clung? 
What  help  in  a  comrade's  bugle-blast 
When  the  peril  of  Alpine  heights  is  past? 
What  need  that  the  spurring  psean  roll 
When  the  runner  is  safe  beyond  the  goal? 
What  worth  is  eulogy's  blandest  breath 
When  whispered  in  ears  that  are  hushed  in  death  ? 
No,  no !  If  you  have  but  a  word  of  cheer, 
Speak  it  while  I  am  alive  to  hear." 

Mrs.  Preston. 

"T  HAVE  always  been  glad  that  there  was  one 
who  brought  out  her  alabaster  vase  and  anointed 
the  Lord  beforehand  for  his  burial.  Most  persons 
would  have  waited,  keeping  the  vase  sealed,  till  he 
was  dead,  and  would  then  have  broken  it  to  anoint 
his  body  when  it  lay,  torn,  wounded  and  cold, 
wrapped  in  the  garments  of  burial.  But  she  did 
not  wait.  She  opened  the  jar  while  he  could  enjoy 
its  sweet  perfume,  and  when  his  worn  and  weary 
feet  could  feel  the  delicious  refreshment  which  it 
gave. 

154 


KINDNESS  THAT  COMES  TOO  LATE.      155 

We  have  not  to  read  between  the  lines  to  find 
the  lesson.  When  one  dies  there  is  no  lack  of  ala- 
baster boxes  to  be  brought  from  their  hiding-places 
and  unsealed.  The  kindest  words  are  spoken  then. 
Not  a  voice  of  faultfinding  is  heard  in  the  dark- 
ened room  where  the  dead  form  reposes  in  silence. 
A  thousawd  pleasant  things  are  said.  A  gentle 
charity  covers  and  hides  all  his  mistakes,  and  even 
his  follies  and  sins.  His  life  is  talked  over,  and 
memory  is  busy  gathering  out  the  beautiful  things 
he  has  done,  the  self-denials  he  has  made  and  the 
kindnesses  he  has  wrought  for  the  poor  along  the 
years  of  his  life.  Every  one  that  knew  him  comes 
and  looks  on  his  pale  face  and  says  some  generous 
word  about  him,  recalling  some  favor  received  from 
his  hands  or  some  noble  deed  wrought  by  him. 
Near  friends  go  to  the  florist  and  order  flowers, 
woven  into  anchors,  crosses,  harps,  pillars  or  crowns, 
to  be  sent  with  their  card  and  laid  upon  his  coffin. 

There  is  nothino;  wrons;  in  all  this.  Flowers  on 
the  coffin  arc  beautiful.  When  a  Christian  sleeps 
there  tliey  are  fit  symbols  of  the  hope  in  which  he 
rests.  Then  they  seem  to  whisper  sweet  secrets  of 
comfort  for  sorrowing  hearts.  They  tell,  too,  of 
kindly  feelings  and  gentle  remembrances  outside 
the   darkened    homes    while    hearts    are     breaking 


156  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

within.  They  are  the  tokens  of  love  and  respect 
for  the  (lend.  There  can  be  nothing  inappropriate 
in  tlie  placing  of  a  few  ciioice  flowers  upon  a  coffin 
or  on  the  bosom  of  the  dead. 

It  is  fitting,  too,  that  kind  words  should  be 
spoken  even  when  the  ear  cannot  hear  them  or  the 
heart  be  warmed  and  thrilled  by  them.  There  is 
no  richer  tribute  to  a  human  life  than  the  sincere 
witness  of  sorrowing  friends  around  the  coffin  and 
the  grave.  It  is  natural  that  many  a  tender  sleep- 
ing memory  should  be  awal^ened  at  the  touch  of 
death.  It  is  natural  that  when  we  have  lost  our 
friends  all  the  sealed  vases  of  affi^ction  should  be 
broken  open  to  anoint  them  for  the  last  time.  It 
is  well  that  even  death  has  power  to  stop  the  tongue 
of  detraction,  to  subdue  enmities,  jealousies  and 
emulations,  to  reveal  the  hitherto  unappreciated 
beauties  and  excellences  of  a  man's  character,  to 
cover  with  the  veil  of  charity  his  blemishes  and 
faults,  and  to  thaw  out  the  tender  thoughts,  the 
laggard  gratitude  and  the  long-slumbering  kindly 
feelino;s  in  the  hearts  of  his  neii^hbors  and  friends. 

But  meantime  there  is  a  great  host  of  weary 
men  and  women  toiling;  throuo-h  life  toward  the 
grave  who  sorely  need  jud  now  the  cheering  words 
and  helpful   ministries  which   we  can  give.      The 


KINDNESS  THAT  COMES  TOO  LATE.      157 

incense  is  gathering  to  scatter  about  their  coffins, 
but  why  should  it  not  be  scattered  in  their  paths 
to-day  ?  The  kind  words  are  lying  in  men's  hearts 
unexpressed,  and  trembling  on  their  tongues  un- 
voiced, which  will  be  spoken  by  and  by  when  these 
weary  ones  are  sleeping,  but  why  should  they  not 
be  spoken  now,  when  they  are  needed  so  much, 
and  when  their  accents  would  be  so  pleasing  and 
grateful  ? 

Many  a  good  man  goes  through  life  plain,  plod- 
ding, living  obscurely,  yet  living  a  true,  honest, 
Christian  life,  making  many  a  self-denial  to  serve 
others,  doing  many  a  quiet  kindness  to  his  neighbors 
and  friends,  who  scarcely  ever  hears  a  word  of  thanks 
or  cheer  or  generous  commendation.  He  may  hear 
many  criticisms  and  many  expressions  of  dis[)ar- 
agement,  but  no  approving  words  come  to  his  ears. 
If  his  friends  have  pleasant  things  to  say  about 
him,  they  manage  so  to  speak  them  that  he  will  not 
hear  them.  Perhaps  they  are  not  uttered  at  all. 
Those  he  loves  and  toils  for  may  be  grateful,  but 
their  gratitude  lies  in  their  hearts  like  fruit-buds 
in  the  branches  in  February.  The  vases  filled 
with  kindly  appreciation  are  kept  sealed.  The 
flowers  are  not  cut  from  the  stem. 

You  stand  by  his  coffin,  and  there  are  enough 


158  WEEK-JJAY  RELIGION. 

kind  things  said  there  to  liave  brightened  every 
liour  of  liis  life  if  they  Imd  been  said  at  tlie  right 
time.  Tliere  are  enough  flowers  piled  ujmn  his 
foisket  to  have  kept  his  chamber  filled  with  fra- 
grance through  all  his  years  if  they  had  only  been 
wisely  scattered  in  daily  clusters.  How  his  heavy 
heart  would  have  leaped  and  thanked  God  if  he 
could  have  heard  some  of  the  expressions  of  affec- 
tion and  approval  in  the  midst  of  life's  painful 
strifes,  and  when  staggering  under  its  burdens, 
which  are  now  wasted  on  ears  that  hear  them  not ! 
How  much  happier  his  life  would  have  been,  and 
how  much  more  useful,  if  he  had  known,  amid  his 
disappointments  and  anxieties,  that  he  had  so  many 
generous  friends  who  held  him  so  dear !  But,  poor 
man!  he  had  to  die  that  the  appreciation  might 
express  itself.  Then  the  gentle  words  spoken  over 
his  cold  form  he  could  not  hear.  The  flowers  sent 
and  strewn  on  his  coflin  had  no  fragrance  for  him. 
The  love  blossomed  out  too  late. 

Many  a  woman  gives  out  her  life  for  Christ  in 
lowly,  self-denying  ministries.  She  turns  away 
from  ease  and  comfort  and  toils  for  the  poor. 
With  her  own  fingers  she  makes  garments  for  the 
widow  and  orphan.  When  she  is  dead  there  is 
great  mourning.     The  poor  rise  up  and  call   her 


KINDNESS  THAT  COMES  TOO  LATE.     159 

blessed.  Those  she  has  clad  gather  about  her 
coffin  and  show  the  coats  and  garments  she 
made  for  tliem  while  she  was  alive.  Her  pastor 
preaches  her  funeral  sermon  with  wondrous  ten- 
derness and  eloquence.  All  very  well.  It  is  a 
sweet  reward,  a  beautiful  ending,  for  such  a  life. 
But  would  it  not  have  been  better  if  part  at  least 
of  that  kindness  had  been  shown  to  her  while  her 
weary  feet  were  walking  on  their  long  love-errands 
and  her  busy  fingers  were  drawing  the  needle 
through  seam  after  seam  ? 

A  husband  piled  most  elaborate  floral  oiferings 
about  his  wife's  coffin,  built  a  magnificent  monu- 
ment over  her  grave  and  spoke  in  glowing  eulogy 
of  her  noble  sacrifices.  But  it  was  whispered  that 
he  had  not  been  the  kindest  of  husbands  to  her 
while  she  lived.  A  daughter  showed  great  sor- 
row at  her  mother's  funeral  and  could  not  say 
enough  in  commendation  of  her,  but  it  was  known 
that  she  had  thrust  many  a  thorn  into  her  pillow 
while  she  was  living. 

Is  it  not  a  better  thing  to  seek  to  make  the  liv- 
ing happy  than  to  leave  them  to  walk  along  dreary 
paths  without  sympathy,  unhelped,  neglected,  per- 
haps wronged,  and  then  flood  their  coffins  with 
sunshine?      Many  a  man    goes   down    under   the 


160  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

pressure  of  lil'c's  hardship  and  the  weight  of  itfj 
burdens,  never  hearing  the  voice  of  human  sym- 
pathy. Wlmt  matters  it  to  him,  when  the  agony 
is  over  and  he  lies  dead  on  the  fichl,  that  friends 
come  in  thrones  to  lament  his  fall  and  to  utter  his 
j>raises?  May  it  not  be  that  a  tith(!  of  tiie  sympa- 
thy and  appreciation  wasted  and  unavailing  now 
would  have  kept  his  heart  bravely  beating  for 
many  another  year? 

"How  much  would  I  care  for  it  could  I  know 
That  when  I  am  under  the  grass  or  snow, 
The  raveled  garment  of  life's  brief  day 
Folded  and  quietly  laid  away, 
The  spirit  let  loose  from  mortal  bars 
And  somewhere  away  among  the  stars, — 
How  much  do  you  think  it  would  matter  then 
What  praise  was  lavished  upon  me,  when. 
Whatever  might  be  its  stint  or  store. 
It  neither  could  help  nor  harm  me  more?" 

Do  not,  then,  keep  the  alabaster  boxes  of  your 
love  and  tenderness  sealed  up  until  your  friends 
are  dead.  Fill  their  lives  with  sw'eetness.  Speak 
approving,  cheering  words  while  their  ears  can 
hear  them.  The  things  you  mean  to  say  when 
they  are  gone  say  before  they  go.  The  flowers 
you  mean  to  send  for  their  coffins  send  to  brighten 
and  sw^eeten  their  homes  before  they  leave  them. 
1?  a  sermon  helps  you,  it  will  do  the  preacher  good 


KINDNESS  THAT  COMES  TOO  LATE.      161 

to  tell  him  of  it.  If  the  editor  writes  an  article 
that  you  like,  he  can  write  a  still  better  one  next 
week  if  you  send  him  a  note  of  thanks.  If  a 
book  you  read  is  helpful,  do  you  not  owe  it  to  the 
author  to  write  him  a  word  of  acknowled2:ment? 
If  you  know  a  weary  or  neglected  one  or  one 
overwrought,  would  it  not  be  such  work  as  God's 
angels  love  to  do  to  seek  to  put  a  little  brightness 
and  cheer  into  his  life,  to  manifest  true  sympathy 
with  him,  and  to  put  into  his  trembling  hand  the 
cup  filled  with  the  wine  of  human  love? 

I  have  always  said — and  I  am  sure  I  am  speak- 
ing for  thousands  of  weary,  plodding  toilers — that 
if  my  friends  have  vases  laid  away  filled  Avith  the 
perfumes  of  sympathy  and  affection  which  they  in- 
tend to  break  over  my  dead  body,  I  would  be  glad 
if  they  would  bring  them  out  in  some  of  my  weary 
hours  and  open  them,  that  I  may  be  refreshed  and 
cheered  by  them  while  I  need  them.  I  would 
rather  have  a  cofBn  without  a  flower  and  a  funeral 
without  a  spoken  eulogy  than  a  life  without  the 
sweetness  of  human  tenderness  and  cheer.  If  we 
w^ould  fulfill  our  mission,  we  must  anoint  our  friends 
beforehand  for  their  burial.  Post-mortem  kind- 
nesses do  not  cheer  the  burdened  spirit.  Tears  fall- 
ing on  the  icy  brow  make  poor  and  tardy  atonement 
11 


162  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

for  coldness  and  neglect  and  cruel  selfi.sliness  In 
long,  struggling  years.  Apjireciation  when  the 
heart  is  stilled  has  no  inspiration  for  the  spirit. 
Justice  conies  too  late  when  it  is  only  pronounced 
in  the  funeral  eulogium.  Flowers  piled  on  the 
coffin  cast  no  fragrance  backward  over  the  weary 
days. 


XVII. 

THE  DUTY  OF  ENCOURAGEMENT. 

nnHERE  are  few  things  to   which  we  need   to 
-*-   train  ourselves  more  diligently  and  conscien- 
tiously  than   to   the    habit  ot    giving   cheer   and 
encouragement. 

To  many  people  life  is  hard.  It  is  full  of 
struggles.  It  has  more  of  shadow  than  of  sun- 
shine. Its  duties  are  stern  and  severe.  Its  bur- 
dens press  heavily.  We  know  not  how  many  of 
those  whom  we  meet  have  been  worsted  in  the 
struggle  of  to-day  or  of  yesterday  and  are  cast  down 
or  almost  in  despair.  We  know  not  behind  what 
smiling  faces  are  sore  hearts.  We  see  not  the  se- 
cret sorrows  that  weigh  like  mountains  upon  many 
a  gentle  spirit.  We  do  not  understand  with  what 
difficulties  the  paths  of  many  pilgrim  feet  are 
beset.  There  is  not  a  heart  without  its  bitterness 
Work  is  hard.  Burdens  press  heavily.  Battles 
are  fierce,  and  are  often   lost.      Hopes  fade   like 

163 


164  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

Bummer  roses,  leaving  disappointment  and  dead 
ashes.  The  constant  and  invariable  gravitation 
of  human  hearts  is  toward  discouragement  and 
depression. 

An  honest  watching  of  our  own  inner  experi- 
ences for  a  week  will  verify  all  this,  and  our 
personal  experience  is  but  a  reflection  of  what  is 
going  on  all  about  us.  A  few  lives  may  be  more 
sunny  than  ours,  while  in  most  the  shadows  are 
deeper,  the  struggles  hotter  and  the  path  steeper 
and  harder. 

While,  then,  there  is  so  much  that  is  dishearten- 
ing, it  becomes  our  duty  to  watch  for  every  oppor- 
tunity to  put  a  little  bit  of  brightness  or  better 
cheer  into  the  lives  of  those  we  meet.  It  would 
seem  to  be  clear  that  we  should  never  needlessly 
utter  a  discouraging  word.  The  guides  caution 
travelers  at  certain  points  on  the  Alps  not  to 
speak  even  in  a  whisper,  lest  the  reverberations  of 
their  tones  should  start  an  avalanche  from  its  per- 
fect poise  and  send  it  crashing  down.  There  are 
hearts  so  poised  on  the  edge  of  despair  that  one 
dispiriting  word  wnll  cast  them  down.  It  is,  there- 
fore, disloyalty  to  humanity  to  speak  a  word  whose 
influence  tends  to  quench  hope,  to  cool  life's  ardor 
or  to  cast  a  shadow  over  any  sunny  heart. 


THE  DUTY  OF  ENCOURAGEMENT.        165 

And  yet  there  are  many  who  do  not  remember 
this.     There  are  preachers  who  utter  discouraging 
messages.      If  a  commander,  leading  his  army  in 
battle,    were    to    issue   lugubrious    proclamations, 
dwelling  upon  the  difficulties  and  dangers  of  the 
hour,  the  power  of  the  enemy  and  the  uncertainty 
of   the  issue,  he  would  ensure   the  defeat  of  his 
army  and  the  failure  of  his  cause.     And  yet  there 
are    men   set  to  lead  in  the  army  of  Christ  who 
ever  dwell  mournfully  on  the  hardships  and  dis- 
couragements of  the  conflict,  with  scarcely  a  brave 
heroic,  hopeful  word.     Should  it  not  be  the  office 
of   all  who  occupy  responsible  places  as  leaders, 
where  their  every  word  or  tone  has  a  mighty  influ- 
ence over  other  lives,  carefully  and  conscientiously 
to  refrain  from  ever  uttering  one  sentence    which 
would  check  the  enthusiasm  of  any  hopeful  heart 
or  add  to  the  fear  and  depression  of  one  who  is  al- 
ready downcast?     There  is  enough  in  life's  sorrows 
and  trials  to  dishearten   without  this.      Men  and 
women  need  incitement,  encouragement,  inspiration. 
Many  a  church  is  kept  from  aggressive  work  and 
earnest  progress  by  the  discouraging  utterances  of 
a  timid  leader.     One  of  the  essential  qualifications 
of  leadership  is  large  hopefulness. 

Then,  in  all  life's  relations,  there  are  many  peo- 


106  WEEK- BAY  RELIGION. 

pie  who  are  always  saying  disheartening  tilings. 
Meet  them  when  you  may,  speak  to  them  on  what- 
ever theme  you  choose,  they  will  leave  a  depressing 
influence  upon  you.  They  take  gloomy  views  of 
everything.  They  are  always  dominated  by  dis- 
couragements. They  see  the  difficulties  first  of  all 
in  any  enterprise  or  scheme.  They  regard  the 
present  time  as  the  most  unpropitious  for  the  un- 
dertaking of  any  new  work.  This  is  the  most  cor- 
rupt age  the  world  has  ever  seen  ;  men  never  were 
so  depraved ;  the  Church  never  was  so  worldly,  so 
shorn  of  power ;  there  never  was  so  little  true  piety. 
Then  touch  upon  their  own  personal  affairs,  and 
they  grow  still  more  gloomy.  They  air  all  their 
griefs.  They  have  a  volume  of  lamentations  to 
pour  into  your  ears.  Ask  their  counsel  in  any 
matter  of  your  own  or  speak  to  them  of  any  plan 
of  yours,  and  they  will  shake  their  heads  and  point 
out  to  you  every  unfavorable  aspect  of  it.  They 
seem  to  live  to  discourage  others,  to  quench  hope, 
to  repress  ardor  and  enthusiasm,  to  pour  darkness 
into  bright  lives,  and  to  spread  demoralization  and 
panic  wherever  they  move.  The  chilling  influ- 
ence of  such  lives  it  is  impossible  to  estimate.  To 
meet  them  in  the  morning  is  to  have  a  day  of  dr^- 
j)ressiou. 


THE  DUTY  OF  ENCOURAGEMENT.        167 

On  the  other  hand,  there  are  those  who  live  to 
give  cheer  and  encouragement.  They  may  have 
burdens,  or  even  sore  griefs,  of  their  own,  but  they 
hide  them  away  deep  in  their  own  hearts,  not  car- 
rvino;  them  so  as  to  cast  their  shadows  on  anv  other 
life.  When  you  meet  tliem,  it  is  as  w^hen  you  go 
out  on  a  June  morning  under  a  cloudless  sky,  with 
dewy  fragrance  breathing  all  around  and  bird- 
songs  filling  the  air.  There  is  a  loving  radiance 
in  their  countenances.  Even  if  vou  do  not  know 
them  personally,  and  merely  meet  them  without 
salutation  on  the  street,  there  is  something  in  their 
expression  that  leaves  a  benediction  on  you  whose 
holy  influence  follows  you  all  day  like  the  mem- 
ory of  a  lovely  picture  or  the  refrain  of  a  sweet 
song.  If  you  have  only  a  greeting  as  you  hurry 
by,  it  is  so  cordial,  so  hearty,  so  sincere,  that  its 
inspiration  tingles  all  day  in  your  veins.  When 
you  talk  with  them,  you  do  not  hear  one  gloomy 
word.  They  take  hopeful  views  of  everything. 
Tliev  alwavs  find  some  favorable  li!2:ht  in  which 
to  view  everv  discouraii-inoi:  event  or  circumstance. 
1^0  ardor  is  quenclied,  no  hope  is  dimmed,  no 
enthusiasm  is  repressed  in  your  heart,  as  you  take 
counsel  with  them. 

They  seek  to  remove  difficulties,  to  oj)en  paths, 


168  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

to  inspire  fresh  courage,  to  make  you  stronger,  and 
to  add  to  vour  determination  to  succeed.  You 
always  go  out  from  a  few  minutes'  talk  with  them 
with  new  impulses  stirring  in  your  breast,  with 
lighter  step,  brighter  face,  deeper  joy,  and  with  the 
assurance  of  victory  thrilling  in  your  soul. 

The  ministry  of  such  lives  is  a  most  blessed  one. 
What  men  need  most  in  this  world's  struggle  and 
strife  is  not  usually  direct  help,  but  cheer.  A  child 
was  seen  at  a  high  window  in  a  burning  building. 
A  brave  fireman  started  up  a  ladder  to  try  to  res- 
cue it.  He  had  almost  gained  the  window,  when 
the  terrible  heat  appeared  too  much  for  him.  Pie 
seemed  to  stagger  and  was  about  to  turn  back,  when 
some  one  in  the  throng  below  cried,  "  Cheer  him  !" 
A  loud  cheer  went  u]),  and  in  a  moment  more  he 
had  the  imperiled  child  in  his  arm,  snatched  from 
an  awful  death.  Many  men  have  fainted  and  suc- 
cumbed in  great  struggles  whom  one  word  of  cheer 
would  have  made  strong  to  overcome. 

We  should  never,  then,  lose  an  opportunity  to 
say  an  inspiring  word.  We  do  not  know  how 
much  it  is  needed  or  how  great  and  farreaching 
its  consequences  may  be.  One  night  long  ago, 
during  a  terrible  storm  on  the  coast  of  England, 
a  clergyman  left  his  own  cozy  home,  hurried  away 


THE  DUTY  OF  ENCOVRAGEMENT.       169 

to  tlie  headland  and  lighted  the  beacon.  Months 
afterward  he  learned  that  that  light  had  saved  a 
great  shi})  with  its  freight  of  human  life.  We 
know  not  to  what  imperiled  interests  and  hopes 
our  one  word  or  act  of  encouragement  may  carry 
rescue  and  safety.  Nor  do  we  know  what  desti- 
nies may  be  wrecked  and  lost  by  our  failure  to 
speak  cheer. 

In  the  training  and  education  of  the  young  there 
is  a  great  call  for  encouragement.  Parents  are  too 
apt  to  criticise  their  children  and  find  fault  w^ith 
them  for  the  imperfect  manner  in  which  they  do 
their  work.  In  too  many  homes  the  prevalent 
temper  is  that  of  faultfinding  and  censure.  Is  it 
any  wonder  that  the  children  sometimes  grow  dis- 
couraged and  feel  that  there  is  no  use  in  trying  to 
do  anything  right?  They  never  receive  a  word  of 
commendation.  Nothing  that  they  do  is  approved. 
The  defects  and  mistakes  in  their  work  are  always 
pointed  out,  oftentimes  impatiently,  and  no  kindly 
notice  is  ever  taken  of  any  improvement  or  prog- 
ress made.  Their  little  plans  and  ambitions  are 
laughed  at.  Their  day-dreams  and  childish  fan- 
cies are  ridiculed.  No  interest  is  taken  in  their 
studies.  They  are  not  merely  left  to  struggle 
along  without  encouragement  or  appreciation,  but 


170  WEEKDAY  RELIGION. 

every  V)U(](]ing  as]>iration  is  mot  by  the  dulling 
frost  of  critici.sin.  If  wc  a(liilt>  li:ul  to  make  head- 
way in  life  against  sueh  repressing  influences  as 
many  children  meet,  we  should  soon  iaiut  by  the 
way  and  give  up  in  despair. 

There  is  a  better  way.  "  A  kiss  from  my 
motlier,"  said  Benjamin  West,  ^*  made  me  a  paint- 
er." Had  it  not  been  for  her  approving  love  and 
the  cheer  and  encouragement  which  she  gave  to 
him  when  he  showed  her  his  first  rude  effort,  he 
would  never  have  gone  on.  A  frown,  a  rebuke, 
a  cold,  indifferent  criticism  or  a  look  or  word  of 
ridicule  would  have  so  discouraged  him  that  he 
would  never  have  tried  again.  No  doubt  many  a 
grand  destiny  has  been  blighted  in  early  youth  by 
discouragement,  by  disapproval  or  by  a  sneer;  and, 
on  the  other  hand,  proper  encouragement  and  ap- 
preciation woo  out  the  coy  and  shrinking  powers 
of  genius  and  start  men  on  grand  careers. 

Wise  parents  and  teachers  understand  this. 
They  notice  every  improvement,  every  mark  of 
progress,  and  speak  approvingly  of  it.  They  com- 
mend whatever  is  well  done.  They  never  chide 
for  faults  or  mistakes  when  the  child  has  done  its 
best.  They  point  out  the  defects  in  such  a  way 
as  not  to  give  pain  or  to  discourage,  but  rather  to 


THE  DUTY  OF  ENCOURAGEMENT.       171 

stimulate  to  new  effort.  They  never  laugh  at  a 
child's  visions  or  fancies  or  ridicule  its  plans,  but 
regard  them  as  the  earliest  germs  of  a  beautiful 
life  which  they  must  try  to  woo  out.  They  do  not 
ridicule  a  child's  answers  or  rebuke  its  questions. 
They  treat  every  manifestation  of  its  young  life 
as  tenderly  as  the  skillful  gardener  treats  his  most 
delicate  plants  and  flowers.  They  seek  to  make  it 
summer  about  the  budding  life,  so  as  never  to  stunt 
any  nascent  growth,  but  to  warm  and  cheer  and 
to  call  out  every  lovely  possibility  of  strength  and 
beauty. 

A  naval  officer  who  rose  to  high  honor  relates 
his  first  experience  under  fire.  The  conflict  was 
very  fierce,  and  at  the  beginning  his  terror  was 
very  great.  He  was  almost  utterly  unmanned. 
The  commander  of  the  ship  noticed  his  terror,  and, 
coming  to  him  in  the  gentlest  manner,  stood  beside 
him  for  a  few  moments  and  told  him  of  his  expe- 
rience when  first  called  into  danger.  He  assured 
the  vouno:  officer  that  he  understood  his  feelin2:s 
perfectly  and  sympathized  with  him.  He  then 
encoura2:ed  him  with  the  further  assurance  that 
the  feeling  of  dread  would  soon  pass  off  and  his 
courage  w^ould  return.  Had  the  commander  ap- 
proached him  with  stern  reproach  and  rebuke,  he 


172  WEEK-DAY  BE  LI  G  ION. 

miglit  liave  become  utterly  panic-stricken.  As 
it  was,  his  words  of  sympathy  made  liim  brave  as 
a  lion. 

Thus  I  read  the  duty  of  giving  encouragement. 
It  is  the  sunshine  most  lives  need.  Childhood, 
youth,  struggling  genius,  fainting  energy,  wearied 
liope,  tempted  virtue,  breaking  hearts, — all  are 
waiting  for  sympathy  and  cheer.  Those  who 
W(nild  do  good  must  learn  this  secret — pastor, 
teacher,  editor,  parent.  Disheartening  words  any- 
where are  treasonable  words.  They  cause  fear, 
anxiety,  panic,  loss  of  courage,  rout,  disaster. 

There  are  discouragements  enough  in  most  lives 
already.  Let  us  never  add  to  life's  burdens,  but 
let  us  rather  at  every  possible  opportunity  breathe 
cheer,  fresh  incitement,  new  courage.  He  that 
lives  thus,  even  in  the  lowliest  walk,  will  make 
brightness  and  song  wherever  he  goes,  and  will 
have  a  choral  entrance  into  joy  at  the  end. 


XVIII. 

ON  LOVING  OTHERS. 

I^TEXT  to  loving  God  comes  the  duty  of  lov- 
-^^  ing  others.  Most  people  find  it  convenient 
in  practical  life  to  qualify  the  scope  of  the  law. 
In  the  ancient  Jewish  interpretation  enemies  were 
left  out;  they  were  to  be  hated.  This  made  the 
commandment  to  love  others  easy  of  observance. 
Without  any  rabbinical  gloss  or  tradition  of  the 
elders  to  justify  us,  while  we  preserve  the  text  in 
its  purity  and  read  it  in  our  Bibles  with  emphasis 
and  commendation,  it  is  seriously  to  be  questioned 
whether  we  follow  the  commandment  much  more 
closely  than  did  the  religionists  of  our  Lord's  time. 
There  are  some  people  whom  it  is  not  hard  to 
love,  and  to  whom  it  is  quite  easy  to  be  kindly  af- 
fectioned.  They  are  congenial  and  to  our  taste. 
We  are  drawn  to  them  by  their  amiable  qualities  or 
charming  manners,  or  their  treatment  of  us  is  so 
kind  and  generous  as  to  win  our  aifection.  It  is 
easy  to  love  such, 

173 


174  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

But  there  are  otlicrs  to  whom  we  arc  not  tlins 
naturally  attracted.  They  are  not  congenial — por- 
liaps  not  amiable.  They  have  unlovely  or  dis- 
agreeable traits.  Certain  faults  mar  the  beauty  of 
their  characters  or  they  treat  us  rudely  and  un- 
kindly. It  is  by  no  mearis  easy  for  us  to  bear 
ourselves  toward  such  with  all  of  love's  patience, 
gentleness,  thoughtfuln&ss  and  helpfulness.  And 
yet  it  is  this  that  is  required  of  those  who  would 
walk  in  the  footsteps  of  the  Lord.  Sinners  love 
those  who  love  them.  Sinners  do  good  to  those 
^vho  do  good  to  them.  Sinners  lend  to  those  of 
whom  they  hope  to  receive  again.  But  we  are  to 
do  more.  We  are  to  love  our  enemies.  We  are 
not  to  select  from  the  mass  about  us  a  few  to  whom 
the  law  of  love  is  to  be  applied.  We  are  to  have 
our  special  friends,  just  as  Jesus  had,  to  whom  our 
hearts  and  lives  may  turn  for  that  deep  companion- 
ship which  all  pure  and  true  souls  crave;  but,  like 
him  also,  we  are  to  love  all  and  show  to  all  love's 
holiest  offices. 

It  is  not  enough  to  have  the  love  in  the  heart ; 
we  need  to  look  also  to  its  expression.  In  the  bare, 
jagged  trees  that  stand  like  naked  skeletons  in  the 
early  spring  days  there  are  thousands  of  intentions 
of  leaf  and  fruit,  but  they  are  folded  up  and  hid- 


ON  LOVING   OTHERS.  175 

den  away  in  unopened  buds.  So,  I  believe,  there 
are  in  many  lives  thouglits  and  purposes  of  love 
which  do  not  reveal  themselves.  The  love  is  in 
the  heart,  but  it  wants  expression.  Oftentimes  the 
very  reverse  of  the  kindly  thought  is  uttered. 
From  many  a  lip  the  petulant  word  or  the  tone 
of  bitterness  is  allowed  to  escape,  while  true 
love  dwells  deep  within  the  heart. 

Most  Christian  people  are  better  than  they  seem. 
There  are  excellent  men  whose  goodness  is  rugged 
and  cold  like  the  bare  granite  rocks.  It  is  strong, 
firm,  true,  upright,  but  lacks  the  finer  graces  of 
the  Christliest  piety.  It  is  quite  possible  to  love 
and  not  be  kindly  affectioned.  There  are  homes  in 
which  there  is  love  that  would  make  any  sacrifice, 
but  in  which  hearts  are  starving  for  kindly  expres- 
sion. There  is  a  dearth  of  those  tender  words  and 
thoughtful  little  acts  which  a  true  gentleness  would 
suggest.  There  are  fathers  who  love  their  children 
and  would  give  their  lives  for  them  who  are  yet 
wanting  in  those  kindly  expressions  which  so  en- 
dear the  parental  relation.  There  are  friendships 
that  are  true  enough,  but  which  are  not  hallowed  by 
those  graceful  attentions  and  those  tokens  of  thought- 
ful ness  which  cost  so  little  and  are  worth  so  much. 
There  are  men  whose  hearts  are  full  of  benevolent 


1 76  WEEK-DA  Y  RELIGION. 

dispositions  toward  the  needy,  and  of  sincere  sym- 
patliy  for  those  who  suifer,  in  whose  lives  none  of 
these  benevolent  thoughts  or  feelings  of  cotnpassion 
take  practical  form.  There  are  men  with  kindly 
natures  whose  manners  are  gruff  and  rude.  There 
are  others  who  boast  of  honest  frankness  in  speech 
whose  words  are  so  harsh  or  ill-timed  as  to  give 
immeasurable  pain.  Then  how  rare  is  that  wise 
tact  which  seems  always  to  know  what  one  is  in 
need  of,  and  comes  always  at  the  very  right  mo- 
ment with  its  delicate  attention,  its  unostentatious 
ministry,  its  quiet  help  ! 

"The  ill-timed  truth  we  might  have  kept, 

Who  knows  how  sharp  it  pierced  and  stung? 
The  word  we  had  not  sense  to  say, 

Who  knows  how  grandly  it  had  rung?" 

There  is  great  need,  therefore,  of  thought  with  re- 
gard to  the  fitting  expression  of  love.  The  kindly 
feeling  must  find  some  way  to  utter  itself — a  way, 
too,  in  keeping  with  the  beauty  of  the  sentiment. 
Many  a  lovely  thought  loses  all  its  loveliness  when 
clothed  in  speech  or  act.  The  benevolence  of  the 
heart  must  show  itself  in  amiability  of  deport- 
ment and  in  deeds  of  mercy.  Manner  is  as  import- 
ant as  matter.      The  gruff  man  can  never  impart 


ON  LOVING  OTHERS.  177 

much    happiness    to    others.      Kindness    must    be 
kindly  expressed. 

The  true  test  of  Christian  love  is  in  life's  closer 
relations.  There  is  a  great  difference  between  lov- 
ing people  we  never  saw,  and  never  shall  see,  and 
those  with  whom  we  mmsfle  continuallv  in  actual 
contact.  There  are  some  persons  whose  souls  glow 
with  love  for  the  benighted  heathen  far  away  wdio 
fail  utterly  in  loving  their  nearest  neighbors  or 
those  who  jostle  against  them  every  day  in  busi- 
ness and  in  society.  No  doubt  it  is  easier  to  love 
some  people  at  a  distance.  Distance  lends  enchant- 
ment to  many  lives,  just  as  a  far-away  rugged 
landscape  may  seem  charmingly  picturesque.  We 
cannot  see  their  faults  and  blemishes.  We  are  not 
required  to  endure  their  uncongenial  or  disagree- 
able qualities.  We  do  not  meet  them  in  the  rival- 
ries of  business  or  chahngs  of  social  life.  We 
see  nothing  of  the  petty  meanness  and  selfish- 
ness that  closer  association  would  reveal  in  them. 
Our  lives  are  not  impinged  upon  at  any  point  by 
theirs,  and  there  can  therefore  be  no  friction.  If 
we  were  brought  into  close  association  with  them, 
our  interest  in  them  might  be  lessened.  Many 
men  who  have  been  excellent  friends  while  meet- 
ing  occasionally    and    in    favorable    circumstances 

12 


178  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

liave  ceased  to  be  friends  when  bronj^lit  into  close 
contact  in  the  attritions  of  daily  life.  There  are 
few  characters  that  will  bear  the  microscopic  lens. 

But  the  test  of  true  Christian  love  is  that  it  does 
net  fail  even  in  the  closest  relations,  in  the  most 
trying  frictions  of  actual  life,  in  wliich  men  so  often 
appear  at  their  worst.  Charity  beareth  all  things 
and  never  faileth.  When  hitherto  undisclosed  and 
unsuspected  faults  or  blemishes  appear  in  one  we 
have  esteemed,  we  are  not  to  love  him  the  less. 
Disagreeable  qualities  may  appear  upon  closer 
acquaintance  which  will  break  the  charm  that 
distance  lent  and  sorely  test  the  genuineness  of 
our  love.  There  may  be  faults  or  eccentricities 
which  painfully  mar  the  beauty  of  men's  charac- 
ters, rendering  them  uncongenial.  Their  actions 
toward  us  may  give  us  apparent  cause  for  with- 
holding from  them  that  courtesy  and  kindness 
which  it  is  our  wont  to  manifest  to  all  men. 

And  yet  none  of  these  things  modify  the  law 
of  love  or  abridge  its  application.  In  all  our  in- 
tercourse with  them  our  treatment  of  them  is  to 
be  in  the  s])ii'it  of  the  sweetest  charity.  No  rude- 
ness of  theirs  must  provoUe  us  to  rudeness  in  re- 
turn. No  matter  how  distasteful  to  our  spirits 
their  habits  or  manners  may  be,  we  are  to   treat 


ON  LOVING  OTHERS.  179 

fhcm  with  unvarying  courtesy.  Even  wrongs  and 
injustice  on  their  part  toward  us  are  to  be  answered 
only  by  that  love  that  beareth  all  things  and  is  not 
easily  provoked,  by  the  soft  answer  that  turneth 
away  wrath,  and  by  the  meekness  that  when  re- 
viled revileth  not  again. 

The  law  of  love,  however,  is  not  to  be  tortured 
into  applications  never  intended.  We  are  not 
required  to  take  all  sorts  of  people  into  intimate 
companionship  or  sacred  friendship.  There  are 
many  from  whom  we  are  commanded  to  separate 
ourselves.  Even  among  the  good  our  hearts  are 
permitted  to  have  choice  of  their  affinities.  Yet 
we  are  to  cherish  love  toward  all.  In  the  face  of 
the  most  repulsive  qualities,  even  under  the  deep- 
est wrongs,  we  are  still  to  maintain  and  exhibit 
love  in  all  its  tenderness,  patience,  thoughtfulness, 
compassion  and  helpfulness — not  the  love  which 
calls  evil  good,  but  the  love  that  desires  for  others 
the  blessings  which  we  seek  for  ourselves. 

To  help  in  bearing  with  disagreeable  people  or 
those  with  unamiable  qualities,  there  is  nothing 
better  than  a  sincere  wish  to  do  them  srood.  There 
is  a  better  side  to  every  marred  or  distorted  char- 
acter. Hidden  away  under  the  blemishes  are  the 
germs  and   possibilities  of  a  noble  and   beautiful 


180  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

life.  Christ  sees  under  the  most  faulty  cxteri(n' 
that  wliicli  by  liis  grace  he  can  exalt  into  heavenly 
sainthood.  We  should  look  even  upon  the  worst 
men  in  the  same  wav,  and  hold  it  to  be  our  errand 
to  them  to  help  to  bring  out  in  them  the  ])ossi- 
ble  beauty.  There  is  a  key  somewhere  to  unlock 
any  and  every  heart,  and  a  hand  that  can  bring 
betterment  to  every  life.  If  we  meet  men  and 
women,  no  matter  how  distorted  their  character, 
with  a  sincere  desire  to  help  and  to  bless  them,  we 
shall  find  it  an  easy  task  to  bear  with  them  and 
treat  them  lovingly. 

Longfellow  says,  "If  we  could  read  the  secret 
history  of  our  enemies,  we  should  find  in  each 
man's  life  sorrow  and  suffering  enough  to  disarm 
all  hostility."  We  always  feel  kindly  and  speak 
softly  in  the  presence  of  suffering.  There  is  some- 
thing in  us  that  prompts  us  to  extend  sympathy 
and  help  to  one  that  has  sorrow.  To  remember 
that  in  every  life  there  are  hidden  griefs  would  go 
far  to  help  us  to  observe  toward  all  the  law  of  love. 

An  artist  used  to  say  to  his  pupils,  "The  end 
of  the  day  is  the  proof  of  the  picture."  He  meant 
that  the  most  favorable  time  to  judge  of  the  excel- 
lence of  a  painting  is  the  twilight-hour,  when  there 
is  not  light  enough  to  distinguish  details.     Then 


ON  LOVING  OTHERS.  181 

defects  in  execution  cannot  be  seen,  and  the  artistes 
thought  glows  in  its  richest  beauty.  In  like  man- 
ner, the  close  of  the  day  of  life  is  the  truest  time 
to  look  at  human  character.  In  the  noon  glare  all 
men's  faults  appear.  Jealousies,  emulations  and 
rivalries  show  us  to  each  other  in  the  heat  of  clash- 
ing, conflicting  life  in  most  unfavorable  light.  We 
are  apt  to  put  the  worst  construction  upon  each 
other's  actions  and  motives.  We  see  each  other 
through  the  defective  and  distorting  vision  of  our 
own  selfishness.  All  the  evil  appears  magnified, 
and  many  of  the  better  things  are  unperceived  or 
shown  in  false  settings.  But  when  the  shadows 
of  the  evening  of  eternity  begin  to  fall  upon  us, 
we  see  each  other  with  the  asperities  softened 
and  the  blemishes  covered  by  the  veil  of  charity. 
When  the  fierce  competitions  are  hushed  we  see 
men  in  truer  light.  We  do  justice  then  to  their 
virtues  and  better  qualities.  Envy  and  prejudice 
in  us  no  longer  magnify  the  evil  that  is  in  them, 
while  the  good  shines  out  in  transfigured  splendor. 
W  hen  we  sit  beside  a  man's  death-bed  we  have 
no  harsh  judgments  to  pronounce.  Beauties  ap- 
pear which  we  had  never  observed  before,  and  im- 
perfections fade  out  in  the  softening,  mellowing 
glow  that  streams  from  the  gates  of  the  eternal 


182  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

world.  How  kiiuUy  we  feel  toward  him  in  that 
hour!  Can  we  not  learn  to  look  at  men  always 
as  we  shall  at  the  close  of  the  day?  Then  it  will 
be  easy  to  feel  and  to  exhibit  toward  all  that  love 
that  never  faileth,  that  thinketh  no  evil,  that 
hopeth  all  things. 


XIX. 

THOUGHTFULNESS  AND  TACT. 

"Evil  is  wrought  by  want  of  thought 
As  well  as  want  of  heart." 

CiOME  people  have  a  wonderful  way  of  always 
^^  speaking  a  kind  word  or  doing  a  kind  act  at 
the  right  time — -just  when  it  is  most  needed  and  will 
do  the  greatest  good.  No  matter  when  we  meet 
them,  they  seem,  as  by  some  unfailing  inspiration, 
to  understand  our  mood  and  to  have  something 
precisely  suited  to  it — a  bit  of  sunshine  for  our 
gloom,  a  word  of  cheer  for  our  disheartenment,  a 
gentle  but  never  offensive  reminder  of  duty  if  we 
are  growing  remiss  or  neglectful,  an  impulse  to 
activity  if  our  zeal  is  flagging,  or  a  word  of  gener- 
ous commendation  and  delicate  praise  if  we  are 
weary  and  overwrought. 

There  is  a  wondrous  power  in  fitness.  A  kind- 
ness that,  standing  apart  from  its  occasion,  seems 
utterly   insignificant  takes  on   importance  and   as- 

183 


l^^l  WKKK-DAY  IlELHUON. 

snmos  an  incstiniahle  value  hccaiise  of  its  njipor- 
tiinones.s.  It  imiltiplios  one's  usel'ulncsss  a  Imn- 
(Ircdfdld,  a  thousandfold,  to  know  liow  to  speak 
the  rii!;lit  wonl  or  do  the  ri<^ht  thing  just  at  the 
rjij-ht  moment  and  in  the  right  way. 

Many  people  with  the  very  b&st  motives  and  in- 
tentions and  with  truly  large  caj)acity  for  doing 
good  almost  utterly  fail  of  usefulness  and  throw 
their  lives  away  because  they  lack  this  gift  of 
tact.  They  perform  their  kindest  deeds  in  such  aii 
inappropriate  way  as  to  rob  them  of  nearly  all  their 
j)ower  to  comfort  or  cheer.  They  always  come 
a  few  minutes  too  late  to  be  helpful.  They  speak 
the  wrong  word,  giving  })ain  wdien  they  wanted  to 
give  pleasure.  They  are  always  making  allusions 
to  themes  on  which  no  word  should  be  spoken. 
They  are  ever  touching  sensitive  spots.  When  they 
enter  a  home  of  sorrow,  drawn  l)y  the  truest  sympa- 
thy, they  are  almost  sure  to  make  tender  hearts  bleed 
the  more  by  some  want  of  fitness  in  word  or  act. 
They  are  continually  hurting  the  feelings  of  their 
friends,  offending  nearly  every  person  they  meet 
and  leaving  frowns  and  tears  in  their  path.  Every 
one  gives  them  credit  for  honesty  of  intention,  and 
yet  their  efforts  to  do  good  mostly  come  to  naught 
or  even  result  in  harm.     The  sad  part  of  it  all  is 


THOUGHTFULNESS  AND   TACT.  185 

that  their  motives  are  good  and  their  hearts  full  of 
benevolent  desires.  Their  lives  are  failures  because 
they  lack  the  proper  touch  and  do  not  know  in 
what  manner  to  do  the  things  they  resolve  to  do. 

Others  may  not  have  one  whit  more  sincere  or 
earnest  desire  to  be  useful.  Their  interest  in  peo- 
ple may  be  no  truer,  their  sympathy  no  deeper, 
their  love  no  warmer.  They  may  have  less  rather 
than  more  natural  power  to  give  help.  Yet  be- 
cause of  their  peculiar  and  gentle  tact  they  scatter 
gladness  all  about  them  and  are  ever  performing 
sweet  ministries  of  2:ood.  Their  susrsrestions  of 
kindness  do  not  come  to  them  as  after-thoughts 
when  it  is  too  late  to  render  any  help.  They  do 
not  blunder  into  all  sorts  of  cruelty  when  they  try 
to  alleviate  sorrow.  They  come  opportunely,  like 
God's  angels.  Their  thoughtful ness  seems  intu- 
itively to  understand  just  what  will  be  the  best 
word  to  speak  or  the  kindest  and  fittest  thing 
to  do. 

When  they  are  guests  in  a  home,  they  have  a 
way  of  showing  a  grateful  appreciation  of  the 
favors  and  attentions  bestowed  upon  them,  and  yet 
in  so  delicate  a  way  as  never  to  appear  to  flatter. 
When  they  feel  it  necessary  to  remind  another  of 
some  remissness  in  duty,  they  do    it  so  gently  as 


18G  WKICK-DAY  RKLKUON. 

not  to  loso  the  triond,  but  to  draw  liim  all  (he 
closer.  Tlu'v  possess  tlie  art  of  inanifesting  an  in- 
terest— not  feigned,  but  sincere — in  each  one  tliey 
meet,  and  succeeil  in  leavin«r  a  pleasant  impression 
and  a  benign  influence  upon  all. 

There  are  some  who  regard  tact  as  insincerity  or 
hypocrisy.  They  boast  of  their  own  honesty,  which 
never  tries  to  disguise  a  dislike  for  a  pei*son,  which 
bluntly  criticises  another's  faults  even  at  the  price 
of  his  friendship.  They  believe  in  truth  in  all  its 
bare  ruggedness,  no  matter  how  much  jialn  it  may 
give,  and  condemn  all  that  thoughtful  art  which 
regards  human  feelings  and  tries  to  sjieak  the  truth 
in  such  a  way  that  it  may  not  wound  and  estrange. 
They  love  to  quote  the  woe  against  those  of  whom 
all  men  speak  well,  and  that  other  saying  of  our 
Lord's — that  he  had  not  come  to  send  peace,  but  a 
sword.  Their  favorite  prophet  is  Elijah,  and  they 
refer  often  to  the  biblical  condemnation  of  certain 
who  proi)hesial  smooth  things.  They  mistake 
bluntness  for  sincerity.  In  the  name  of  candor 
they  employ  sarcasm  or  sharp  and  bitter  personal- 
ities. When  othei-s  are  grieved  or  hurt  or  insulted, 
thev  answer,"!  am  a  blunt  man;  I  say  what  I 
meiui,  and  vou  must  excuse  me."  Frankness  is  to 
be  honored,  but  this  is  not  frankness;  it  is  imper- 


TIIOUGHTFULNESS  AND   TACT.  1H7 

tinence,  cruel  unklndness,  the  outbreak  of  bad  na- 
ture in  him  who  speaks,  which,  instead  of  doing 
good,  works  only  harm. 

A  true  appreciation  of  the  story  of  the  teachings 
of  the  gospel  will  reveal  the  fact  that  our  Lord 
himself  exercised  the  most  beautiful  and  thought- 
ful tact  in  all  his  mingling  among  the  people.     He 
was  utterly  incapable  of  rudeness.     He  never  need- 
lessly spoke  a  harsh  word.     He  never  gave  needless 
pain  to  a  sensitive  heart.     He  was  most  considerate 
of  human  weakness.     He  was  most  gentle  toward 
all  human  sorrow.     He  never  suppressed  the  truth, 
but  he  uttered  it  always  in  love.     Even  the  terrible 
woes  he  pronounced  against  unbelief  and  hypocrisy 
I  do  not  believe  were  spoken  in  the  tones  of  thun- 
der trembling  with  rage  which  men  impart  to  their 
anathemas.    I  think  we  must  read  them  in  the  light 
of  his  tears  over  the  city  of  his  love,  which  had  re- 
jected him,  pulsing  and  tremulous  with  divine  and 
sorrowing  tenderness.     His  whole  life  tells  of  most 
considerate  thoughtfulness.      He  had   a  wondrous 
reverence  for  human  life.     Every  scrap  of  human- 
ity was  sacred  and  precious  in  his  eyes.     He  bore 
himself  always  in  the  attitude  of  tenderest  regard 
for  every  one.     How  could  it  be  otherwise,  since  he 
saw   in  every  one  a  lost  being  whom   by  love   he 


188  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

might  win  and  rescue,  or  whom  by  a  harsh  word  he 
niiglit  drive  for  ever  beyond  hope?  He  never 
spoke  brusquely  or  made  truth  cruel.  He  saw  in 
every  man  and  woman  enough  of  sadness  to  soften 
the  very  tones  of  his  speech  and  to  produce  feelings 
of  ineffable  tenderness  in  him.  He  moved  about 
striving  to  impart  to  every  one  some  comfort  or 
help. 

If  we  can  but  realize,  even  in  the  feeblest 
way,  the  feeling  of  Christ  toward  men,  our  blunt- 
ness  and  rudeness  will  soon  change  to  gentleness. 
And  this  is  true  tact.  It  is  infinitely  removed  from 
cunning.  Cunning  is  insincere.  It  flatters  and 
practices  all  the  arts  of  deception.  It  professes  a 
friendship  and  interest  it  does  not  feel.  It  seeks 
only  to  promote  its  own  ends.  It  is  selfish  at  the 
core,  and  utterly  wretched  and  debasing. 

True  tact  is  sanctified  common  sense.  It  i 
Christian  love  doing  its  proper  and  legitimate  work. 
It  is  that  wisdom  wdiich  our  Lord  commended  so 
heartily  to  the  disciples  as  they  went  out  among 
enemies  and  into  a  hostile  world.  It  is  at  the  same 
time  harmless  as  a  dove.  No  one  can  read  the  New 
Testament  thoughtfully  without  seeing  how  love 
moves  everywhere  as  the  queen  of  all  the  graces. 
Truth  is  everywhere  clothed  in  the  warm  and  radi- 


THOUGHTFTTLNESS  AND  TACT.  189 

ant  beauty  of  charity.  Positive,  strong  and 
mighty,  it  is  ever  gentle  as  the  touch  of  a  child's 
finger.  Some  one  has  said  that  whoever  makes 
truth  unpleasant  commits  high  treason  against 
virtue.  The  remark  needs  a  qualification.  There 
are  unpleasant  truths  that  must  cause  pain  when 
faithfully  spoken.  Yet  truth  itself  is  always  lovely, 
and  we  are  not  loyal  to  it  when  we  present  it  in  any 
way  that  will  make  it  appear  repulsive. 

Christian  tact  is  wise  and  lovino;  thous^htfulness. 
It  is  that  charity  which  is  wisely  gentle  to  all, 
which  beareth  all  things,  which  seeketh  not  her  own, 
which  thinketh  no  evil.  It  has  an  instinctive  de- 
sire to  avoid  giving  pain.  It  seeks  to  please  all  men 
for  their  good.  It  knows  very  well  that  the  surest 
way  not  to  do  men  good  is  to  antagonize  them  and 
excite  their  opposition  and  enmity ;  therefore,  as  far 
as  possible,  it  avoids  all  direct  attack  upon  the  life 
and  opinions  of  others.  It  shows  respect  for  the 
views  of  those  who  differ  in  sentiment  or  belief. 
A  wise  writer  has  said,  ^'  When  we  would  show 
any  one  that  he  is  mistaken,  our  best  course  is  to 
observe  on  what  side  he  considers  the  subject — for 
his  view  of  it  is  generally  right  on  his  side — and 
admit  to  him  that  he  is  right  so  far.  He  will  bo 
satisfied    with    this   acknowledgment   that    he  was 


190  WEEK-DAY  RP.LTGION. 

not  wrong  in  his  judgment,  though  inadvertctit  in 
not  looking  at  the  whole  of  the  case."  How  much 
wiser  and  more  effective  this  method  than  that  of 
violently  assaulting  the  position  of  one  who  differs 
from  us,  as  if  we  were  infallible  and  he  and  his 
opinions  were  worthy  only  of  our  contem])t !  We 
can  accomplish  by  indirection  what  we  could  never 
do  by  direct  methods. 

In  no  class  of  work  is  this  wise  tact  so  much 
needed  as  in  trvins;  to  lead  men  to  Christ.  There 
is  somewhere  a  key  to  every  heart,  and  yet  there 
are  good  and  earnest  men  to  whom  no  heart  opens. 
They  have  zeal  without  knowledge.  Sanctified 
tact  shows  its  skill  in  a  thousand  little  ways  which 
no  rules  can  mark  out,  but  which  w'in  hearts  and 
find  acceptance  for  the  living  truth  and  for  the 
wondrous  love  of  Christ.  I  believe  it  will  be  seen 
in  the  end  that  many  lives  which  might  have  been 
saved  by  the  gentle  methods  which  love  teaches 
have  drifted  away  from  Christ  and  been  lost 
through  the  unwisdom  of  workers. 

Tact  has  a  wonderful  power  in  smoothing  out 
tangled  afftiirs.  A  pastor,  with  it,  will  harmonize 
a  church  composed  of  most  discordant  elements, 
and  prevent  a  thousand  strifes  and  quarrels  by 
saying  the  right  word  at  the  right   time   and   by 


THOUGHTFVLNESS  AND  TACT.  191 

quietly  and  wisely  setting  other  influences  to  work 
to  neutralize  the  discordant  tendencies.  A  teacher 
possessed  of  this  gift  can  control  the  most  unruly 
pupils  and  disarm  mischief  of  its  power  to  annoy 
and  disturb  the  peace.  In  the  home  it  is  a  most 
indispensable  oil.  Quiet  tact  will  always  have  the 
soft  word  ready  to  speak  in  time  to  turn  away 
anger.  It  knows  how  to  avoid  unsafe  ground.  It 
can  put  all  parties  into  a  good  humor  when  there 
is  dano;er  of  diiference  or  clashino;.  It  is  silent 
when  silence  is  better  than  speech. 

Nothing  else  has  so  much  to  do  with  the  success 
or  failure  of  men  in  usefulness  as  the  possession  or 
non-possession  of  tact.  A  man  with  great  gifts 
and  learning  accomplishes  nothing,  while  another, 
with  not  one-half  of  his  natural  powers  or  acquire- 
ments, far  outstrips  him  in  practical  life.  The 
diiference  lies  in  tact — in  knowino;  the  art  of  doing: 
things.  We  need  more  than  brains  and  erudition. 
The  talent  of  all  which  tells  most  effectively  in  life 
is  that  which  teaches  us  how  to  use  the  power  ive 
have.  One  person  will  do  more  good  without 
learning  than  another  with  his  brain  full  of  the 
lore  of  the  aores. 

Tact  is  no  doubt  largely  a  natural  endowment, 
but  it  is  also  partly  an  art,  and  can  be  cultivated. 


192  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

The  awkward  man  wlio  is  always  swinging  Iiimst'lf 
against  some  one  or  treading  down  some  tender 
flower  may  acquire  something  of  the  graee  of  easy 
carriage.  The  harsh,  brusque  man  may  get  a  softer 
heart,  and  witli  it  a  softer  manner.  The  man  who  is 
always  saying  the  wrong  word  and  paining  some 
one  may  at  least  learn  to  be  silent  on  doubtfid  oc- 
casions. Tliere  is  no  better  way  to  acquire  this 
wonder-working  tact  than  by  becoming  filled  with 
the  spirit  of  Christ.  AVarm  love  in  the  heart  for 
all  men,  unselfish,  thoughtful,  kind,  will  always 
find  some  beautiful  way  to  perform  its  beneficent 
ministries. 

A  delicate  kindness  moves  us  more  than  the  sub- 
limest  exhibition  of  power.  Gentleness  is  mightier 
than  noise  or  force.  The  tiny  flower  growing  high 
up  on  the  cold,  rugged  mountain,  amid  ice  and 
snow,  impresses  the  beholder  more  than  the  great 
piles  of  granite  that  tower  to  the  clouds.  The  soft 
shining  of  the  sun  can  do  more  than  the  rude  blast 
to  make  men  unfasten  their  heavy  garments  and 
open  their  hearts  to  the  influences  of  good. 


XX. 

MUTUAL  FORBEARANCE. 

AMDNG  all  Christian  duties,  there  are  few  that 
touch  life  at  more  points  than  the  duty  of 
mutual  forbearance,  and  there  are  few  that,  in  the 
observance  or  the  breach,  have  more  to  do  with  the 
happiness  or  the  unhappiness  of  life.  We  cannot 
live  our  lives  solitarilv.  We  are  made  to  be  social 
beins-s.  It  is  in  our  intercourse  with  others  that 
we  find  our  sweetest  pleasures  and  our  purest 
earthly  joys.  Yet  close  by  these  springs  of  happi- 
ness are  other  fountains  that  do  not  yield  sweet- 
ness. There  often  are  briers  on  the  branches  from 
which  we  gather  the  most  luscious  fruits.  Were 
human  nature  perfect,  there  could  be  nothing  but 
most  tender  pleasure  in  the  mutual  comminglings 
of  life.  But  we  are  all  imperfect  and  full  of  in- 
firmities. There  are  qualities  in  each  one  of  us 
that  are  not  beautiful — many  that  are  annoying  to 
others.     Self  rules  in  greater  or  less  measure  in  the 

13  _  193 


194  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

best  of  us.  In  our  busy  and  excited  lives  we  are 
continually  liable  to  jostle  against  each  other.  Our 
individual  interest^i  conflicrt,  or  seem  to  conflict. 
The  things  we  do  in  the  earnest  pressing  of  our 
own  business  and  our  own  plans  and  efforts  seem 
at  times  to  interfere  with  the  interests  of  others. 
In  the  heat  of  emulation  and  the  warmth  of  self- 
interest  we  are  apt  to  do  things  which  injure 
others. 

Then,  in  our  closer  personal  contact,  in  society  and 
in  business  relations,  we  are  constantly  liable  to 
give  pain  or  offence.  We  sometimes  speak  quickly 
and  give  expression  to  thou;^htloss  words  which  fall 
like  sparks  on  other  inflammable  tempers.  Even 
our  nearest  and  truest  friends  do  things  that  grieve 
us.  Close  commingling  of  imperfect  lives  always 
has  its  manifold  little  injustices,  wrongs,  oppressions, 
slights  and  grievances. 

Then  we  do  not  always  see  each  other  in  clear 
and  honest  light.  We  are  prone  to  have  a  bias 
toward  self,  and  often  misconstrue  the  bearing, 
words  or  acts  of  others.  Many  of  us,  too,  are 
given  to  little  petulances  and  expressions  of  ill- 
humor  or  bad  temper  which  greatly  lessen  the 
probabilities  of  unbroken  fellowship. 

Thus  it  comes  about  that  no  Christian  grace  is 


MUTUAL  FORBEARANCE.  195 

likely  to  be  called  into  play  more  frequently  than 
that  of  mutual  forbearance.  Without  it  there  can 
really  exist  no  close  and  lasting  friendly  relations 
in  a  society  composed  of  imperfect  beings.  Even 
the  most  tender  intimacies  and  the  holiest  associa- 
tions require  the  constant  exercise  of  patience.  If 
we  resent  every  apparent  injustice,  demand  the 
righting  of  every  little  wrong,  and  insist  upon 
chafing  and  uttering  our  feelings  at  every  infinites- 
imal grievance,  and  if  all  the  other  parties  in  the 
circle  claim  the  same  privilege,  what  miserable 
beings  we  shall  all  be,  and  how  wretched  life  will 
become ! 

But  there  is  a  more  excellent  way.  The  spirit 
of  love  inculcated  in  the  New  Testament  will,  if 
permitted  to  reign  in  each  heart  and  life,  produce 
fellowship  without  a  jar  or  break. 

We  need  to  guard  first  of  all  against  a  critical 
spirit.  It  is  very  easy  to  find  fault  with  people. 
It  is  possible,  even  with  ordinary  glasses,  to  see 
many  things  in  one  another  that  are  not  what 
they  ought  to  be.  Then  some  people  carry  micro- 
scopes fine  enough  to  reveal  a  million  animalculse 
in  a  drop  of  water,  and  with  these  they  can  find 
countless  blemishes  in  the  character  and  conduct 
even  of  the   most  saintly  dwellers  on  the   earth. 


1  DO  WEEK-DA  Y  RELIGION. 

There  arc  some  who  are  always  ^^4at€h^ng  for  slights 
and  grievances.  They  are  suspicious  of  the  motives 
aiul  intentions  of  others.  Tliey  are  always  imag- 
ining offences,  even  where  none  were  most  remotely 
intended.  This  habit  is  directly  at  variance  with 
the  law  of  love,  which  tliinketh  no  evil. 

We  turn  to  the  Pattern.  Does  Christ  look  upon 
us  sharply,  critically,  suspiciously?  He  sees  every 
infirmity  in  us,  but  it  is  as  though  he  did  not  see 
it.  His  love  overlooks  it.  He  throws  a  veil  over 
our  faults.  He  continues  to  pour  his  own  love 
upon  us  in  spite  of  all  our  blemishes  and  our  ill- 
treatment  of  him.  The  law  of  Christian  forbear- 
ance requires  the  same  in  us.  We  must  not  keep 
our  selfish  suspicions  ever  on  the  watch-tower  or 
at  the  windows,  looking  out  for  neglects,  discour- 
tesies, wrongs,  or  grievances  of  any  kind.  We 
must  not  be  hasty  to  think  evil  of  others.  We 
had  better  be  blind,  not  perceiving  at  all  the  seem- 
ing rudeness  or  insult.  It  is  w^ell  not  to  hear  all 
that  is  said,  or,  if  hear  we  must,  to  be  as  though 
we  heard  not. 

Many  bitter  quarrels  have  grown  out  of  an  im- 
agined slight,  many  out  of  an  utter  misconception, 
or  perchance  from  the  misrepresentation  of  some 
wretched  gossipmonger.     Had  a  few  moments  been 


MUTUAL  FORBEARANCE.  197 

given  to  ascertain  the  truth,  there  had  never  been 
any  occasion  for  ill-feeling. 

We  should  seek  to  know  the  motive  also  which 
prompts  the  apparent  grievance.  In  many  cases 
the  cause  of  our  grievance  is  utterly  unintentional, 
chargeable  to  nothing  worse  than  thoughtlessness — 
possibly  meant  even  for  kindness.  It  is  never  fair 
to  judge  men  by  every  word  they  speak  or  every- 
thing they  do  in  the  excitement  and  amid  the 
irritations  of  busy  daily  life.  Many  a  gruflp  man 
carries  a  good  heart  and  a  sincere  friendship  under 
his  coarse  manner.  The  best  does  not  always  come 
to  the  surface.  We  should  never,  therefore,  hastily 
imagine  evil  intention  in  others.  Nor  should  we 
allow  ourselves  to  be  easily  persuaded  that  our 
companions  or  friends  meant  to  treat  us  unkindly. 
A  disposition  to  look  favorably  upon  the  conduct 
of  our  fellow-men  is  a  wonderful  absorber  of  the 
frictions  of  life. 

Then  there  are  always  cases  of  real  injustice. 
There  are  rudenesses  and  wrongs  which  we  cannot 
regard  as  merely  imaginary  or  as  misconceptions. 
They  proceed  from  bad  temper  or  from  jealousy 
or  malice,  and  are  very  hard  to  bear.  Kindness 
is  repaid  with  unkindness.  We  find  impatience 
and   petulance    in    our   best  friends.      There   are 


1 98  WEEK-DA  Y  RELIGION. 

countless  tliin«^s  every  day  in  our  associations  with 
others  which  tend  to  vex  or  irritate  us. 

Here  is  room  for  the  fullest  exercise  of  that  di- 
vinely-beautiful charity  which  covers  a  multitude 
of  sins  in  others.  We  seek  to  make  every  possible 
excuse  for  the  neglect  or  rudeness  or  wrong.  Per- 
haps our  friend  is  carrying  some  perplexing  care 
or  some  great  burden  to-day.  Something  may  be 
iroing:  wrons^  in  his  business  or  at  his  home.  Or 
it  may  be  his  unstrung  nerves  that  make  him  so 
thouo-htless  and  inconsiderate.  Or  his  bad  health 
may  be  the  cause.  A  large-hearted  spirit  will 
always  seek  to  find  some  palliation  at  least  for  the 
apparent  wrong. 

Another  step  in  the  school  of  forbearance  is  the 
lesson  of  keeping  silent  under  provocation.  One 
person  alone  can  never  make  a  quarrel :  it  takes 
two.  A  homely  counsel  to  a  newly-married  couple 
was  that  they  should  never  both  be  angry  at  the 
same  time — that  one  should  always  remain  calm 
and  tranquil.  There  is  a  still  diviner  counsel 
which  speaks  of  the  soft  answer  which  turneth 
away  wrath.  If  we  cannot  have  the  soft  answer 
always  ready,  we  can  at  least  learn  not  to  answer 
at  all.  Our  Lord  met  nearly  all  the  insults  he 
received  with  patient  uncomplaining  silence.     He 


MUTUAL  FORBEARANCE.  199 

was  like  a  lamb  dumb  before  the  shearer.  All 
the  keen  insults  of  the  cruel  throng  wrung  from 
him  no  word  of  resentment,  no  look  of  impatience. 
As  the  fragrant  perfume  but  gives  forth  added 
sweetness  when  crushed,  so  cruelty,  wrong  and 
]>ain  only  made  him  the  gentler  and  the  love  that 
always  distinguished  him  the  sweeter. 

It  is  a  majestic  power,  this  power  of  keeping 
silent.  Great  is  the  conqueror  who  leads  armies 
to  victories.  Mighty  is  the  strength  that  captures 
a  city.  But  he  is  greater  who  can  rule  his  own 
spirit.  There  are  men  who  can  command  armies, 
but  cannot  command  themselves.  There  are  men 
who  by  their  burning  words  can  sway  vast  multi- 
tudes who  cannot  keep  silence  under  provocation 
or  wrong.  The  highest  mark  of  nobility  is  self- 
control.  It  is  more  kingly  than  regal  crown  and 
j)urple  robe. 

''Not  in  the  clamor  of  the  crowded  street, 
Not  in  the  shouts  and  phiudits  of  the  throng, 
But  in  ourselves,  are  triumph  and  defeat." 

There  are  times  when  silence  is  golden,  when 
w^ords  mean  defeat,  and  when  victory  can  be  gained 
only  by  answering  not  a  word.  Many  of  the  pain- 
ful (quarrels  and  much  of  the  bitterness  of  what 


200  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

we  call  so  often  "  inccmipatihility  of  temper" 
would  never  be  known  if  we  would  learn  to  keep 
silence  when  others  wrong  us.  We  may  choke 
back  the  angry  Avord  that  flies  to  our  lips.  The 
insult  unanswered  will  recoil  upon  itself  and  be 
its  own  destruction. 

There  is  also  a  wonderful  opportunity  here  for 
the  play  of  good  nature.  There  are  some  people 
whose  abounding  humor  always  comes  to  their  re- 
lief when  they  observe  the  gathering  of  a  storm, 
and  they  will  have  a  little  story  ready,  or  will  sud- 
denly turn  the  conversation  entirely  away  from  the 
inflammable  subject,  or  will  make  some  bright  or 
])layful  remark  that  will  cause  the  whole  trouble 
to  blow  off  in  a  hearty  lauo^h.  It  would  not  seem 
impossible  for  all  to  learn  to  bear  insults  or  griev- 
ances in  some  of  these  ways,  either  in  silence — not 
sullen,  thunder-charged,  but  loving  silence — or  by 
returning  the  soft  answer  which  will  quench  the 
flame  of  anger,  or  by  that  wise  tact  which  drives 
out  the  petulant  humor  by  the  expulsive  power  of 
a  new  emotion. 

There  are  at  least  two  motives  which  should  be 
sufficient  to  lead  us  to  cultivate  this  grace  of 
forbearance.  One  is  that  no  insult  can  do  us 
harm    unless  we   allow  it   to  irritate  us.      If  we 


MUTUAL  FORBEARANCE.  201 

endure  even  the  sorest  words  as  Jesus  endured  his 
wrongs  and  revilings,  they  will  not  leave  one  trace 
of  injury  upon  us.  They  can  harm  us  only  when 
we  allow  ourselves  to  become  impatient  or  angry. 
We  can  get  the  victory  over  them,  utterly  disarm 
them  of  power  to  do  us  injury,  by  holding  our- 
selves superior  to  them.  The  feeling  of  resent- 
ment will  change  to  pity  when  we  remember  that 
not  he  who  is  wronged,  but  he  who  does  the  wrong, 
is  the  one  who  suffers.  Every  injustice  or  griev- 
ance reacts  and  leaves  a  stain  and  a  wound.  All 
the  cruelties  and  persecutions  that  human  hate 
could  inflict  would  not  leave  one  trace  of  real 
harm  upon  us,  but  every  feeling  of  resentment 
admitted  into  our  hearts,  every  angry  word  uttered, 
will  leave  a  stain.  Forbearance  thus  becomes  a 
perfect  shield  which  protects  us  from  all  the  cruel- 
ties and  wrongs  of  life. 

The  other  motive  is  drawn  from  our  relation 
to  God.  We  sin  against  him  continually,  and  his 
mercy  never  fails.  His  love  bears  with  all  our 
neglect,  forgetful ness,  ingratitude  and  disobedience, 
and  never  grows  impatient  with  us.  We  live  only 
by  his  forbearance.  The  wrongs  he  endures  from 
us  are  infinite  in  comparison  with  the  trivial  griev- 
ances we  must  endure  from  our  fellow-men.    When 


202  WEEK-DA  Y  RELIGION. 

MO  tliink  of  tliis,  can  we  grow  impatient  of  the 
little  irritations  of  daily  fellowsliip?  We  are 
tinght  to  pray  every  day,  ^'  Forgive  us  our  debts 
as  we  forgive  our  debtors."  How  can  we  j)ray  this 
petition  sincerely  and  continue  to  be  exacting,  re- 
sentful, revengeful,  or  even  to  be  greatly  pained 
by  the  unkind  treatment  of  others? 

The  Koran  says  that  two  angels  guard  every  man 
on  the  earth,  one  watching  on  either  side  of  him;  and 
when  at  night  he  sleeps,  they  fly  up  to  heaven  with 
a  written  report  of  all  his  words  and  actions  dur- 
ing the  day.  Every  good  thing  lie  has  done  is 
recorded  at  once  and  repeated  ten  times,  lest  some 
item  may  be  lost  or  omitted  from  the  account. 
But  when  they  come  to  a  sinful  thing,  the  angel 
on  the  right  says  to  the  other,  "  Forbear  to  record 
that  for  seven  hours ;  peradventure,  as  he  wakes  and 
thinks  in  the  quiet  hours,  he  may  be  sorry  for  it, 
and  repent  and  pray  and  obtain  forgiveness."  This 
is  a  true  picture  of  the  way  in  which  God  regards 
our  lives.  He  is  slow  to  see  our  sins  or  to  write 
them  down  against  us.  He  delights  in  mercy. 
We  are  to  repeat  in  our  lives  as  his  children  some- 
thing at  least  of  his  patience.  The  song  of  for- 
giveness and  forbearance  which  he  sings  into  our 
hearts  we  are  to  echo  forth  asrain. 


XXI. 

MANLY  MEN. 

"Let  my  early  dreams  come  tnie 
With  the  good  I  fain  would  do; 
Clothe  with  life  my  weak  intent, 
Let  me  be  the  thing  I  meant." 

/CHRISTIAN  life  is  more  than  a  tender  senti- 
^^  ment.  Christian  character  is  more  than  gen- 
tleness, patience,  meekness,  humility,  kindness. 
There  are  some  men  who  have  these  qualities 
who  lack  the  more  robust  characteristics  of  man- 
hood. They  are  weak,  nerveless,  spiritless.  They 
are  wanting  in  courage,  force,  energy  and  that  in- 
definable quality  called  grit.  Their  gentleness  is 
the  gentleness  of  weakness.  They  are  not  manly 
men.  Their  virtues  are  of  the  passive  kind,  and 
they  lack  those  active,  positive  traits  that  give  men 
power  and  make  them  strong  to  stand  and  resist- 
less when  they  move.  Such  persons  have  no 
strength  of  conviction.  Holding  their  opinions 
lightly,  their  grasp  of  them  is  easily  relaxed.     They 

203 


204  WEEK-DAY  EELJGfON. 

are  reinarkal)]c  for  tlieir  forbearance  and  meekness, 
thus  illustrating  one  phase  of  true  Christly  charac- 
ter, but  they  serve  only  as  moral  bulfcrs  in  society 
to  deaden  the  force  of  the  concussion  j^roduced  by 
other  men's  passions.  They  generate  no  motion, 
they  kindle  no  enthusiasm,  they  inspire  no  courage, 
they  make  no  aggression  against  the  world's  hosts 
of  evil.  They  are  good  men.  They  have  the  pa- 
tience of  Job,  the  meekness  of  Moses,  the  amia- 
bility of  John,  but  they  want  the  boldness  of 
Peter,  the  enthusiasm  of  Paul  and  the  moral  hero- 
ism of  Luther  superadded  to  their  passive  virtues 
to  make  them  truly  strong  men. 

There  is  another  class  of  defects  sometimes  found 
in  men  of  very  gentle  spirit.  They  possess  many 
of  those  qualities  of  disposition  that  are  most  high- 
ly commended  in  the  Scriptures.  They  are  not 
easily  provoked.  They  speak  the  soft  answer  that 
turneth  away  wrath.  They  endure  well  the  rough 
experiences  of  life.  They  are  gentle  to  all  men 
and  full  of  kindness,  and  yet  they  are  wanting  in 
the  quality  of  perfect  truthfulness.  They  are  neither 
false  nor  dishonest  in  great  matters,  but  in  countless 
minor  matters  they  are  characterized  by  a  disregard 
of  that  exact  truthfulness  which  the  religion  of 
Christ   requires.      They  are   not   careful   to    keep 


MANLY  MEN.  205 

their  engagements.  They  are  ready  to  promise 
any  favor  asked  of  them — they  have  not  the  courage 
to  say  "  No  !"  to  a  request — but  they  frequently  fail 
to  fulfill  what  they  so  readily  promise.  They  are 
unpunctual  men,  late  at  meetings,  keeping  others 
waiting  at  appointments,  and  often  failing  alto- 
gether to  appear  after  the  most  positive  engage- 
ment to  attend.  We  can  readily  forgive  the  cruelty 
of  that  facetious  editor  who  recently  wrote  a  tearful 
"  In  Memoriam  "  of  one  of  these  unpunctual  men, 
speaking  of  him  as  the  "  late  Mr.  Blank." 

These  late  people  are  frequently  careless,  too, 
about  paying  little  debts.  In  charity,  I  think, 
"  careless '^  is  the  proper  word,  for  they  do  not 
intend  to  defraud  any  one,  but  have  permitted 
themselves  to  grow  into  a  loose  habit  of  doing 
business.  They  make  little  purchases  or  borrow 
little  sums  of  money  from  friends,  faithfully  prom- 
ising to  pay  or  return  the  amount  in  a  day  or  two, 
but  neglecting  to  do  so,  until  by  and  by  the  matter 
fades  altogether  from  their  memory.  They  bor- 
row books  also,  if  they  chance  to  be  of  a  literary 
turn  of  mind,  and  other  articles  of  various  kinds, 
pledging  themselves  to  return  the  same  in  a  very 
little  time ;  and  many  an  empty  place  in  a  library 
and  many  a  missing  article  in  a  household  pro- 


20G  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

claim  either  a  great  many  bad  memories  or  a  pain- 
ful  want  of  conscientiousness  in  borrowers. 

There  is  still  another  class  of  blemishes  for 
which  I  can  find  no  more  gentle  designation  than 
the  word  meannesses.  No  other  faults  detract  more 
from  the  nobleness  of  manhood,  and  yet  it  must  be 
confessed  with  shame  that  none  are  more  common. 
A  man  seems  to  possess  an  excellent  character  as 
beheld  from  a  little  distance.  He  has  many  ele- 
ments of  power,  traits  of  usefulness,  perhaps  even 
of  greatness;  but  when  drawn  close  to  him  into 
intimate  personal  relations,  you  discover  evidences 
of  meanness  which  you  had  not  suspected  before. 
As  a  friend  he  is  disingenuous.  Through  all  the 
guise  of  good  profession  the  marks  of  selfishness 
and  self-seeking  appear.  He  uses  his  friends  to 
further  his  own  personal  interests,  and  cares  not 
that  they  suffer  loss  provided  he  himself  is  ben- 
efited. He  is  not  loyal  to  those  to  w^hom  he  pro- 
fesses such  unfaltering  devotion,  but  speaks  freely  in 
whispers  to  others  of  their  faults,  disclosing  many 
a  matter  entrusted  to  him  or  learned  by  him  in  the 
sacredness  of  close  friendship.  If  he  wishes  any- 
thing accomplished  that  involves  risk  of  reputa- 
tion, he  puts  some  other  one  forward  to  do  the  un- 
pleasant work,  to  bear  the  odium  or  take  the  sneers 


MANLY  MEN.  207 

and  reproach,  while  he  quietly  steps  in  to  reap  the 
advantage. 

In  business  he  is  close  and  hard.  He  never  pays 
a  debt  cheerfully,  without  protest  or  question.  He 
treats  every  creditor  as  if  he  were  an  enemy  or  a 
conspirator  and  as  if  his  bills  were  fraudulent  or 
unjust.  He  takes  every  advantage  in  a  bargain. 
He  higgles  for  the  lowest  penny  when  he  is  to  pay, 
and  the  highest  when  he  is  making  the  sale.  He 
counts  the  fractious  of  cents  in  his  own  favor.  To 
his  employes  he  pays  the  minimum  of  w^ages, 
while  he  extorts  from  them  the  maximum  of  work. 
He  is  suspicious  of  the  honesty  of  every  one,  qtiot- 
ing  often  the  old  aphorism  of  meanness :  "  Till 
you  know  that  a  man  is  honest,  treat  him  as  a 
rogue.''  His  meanness  creeps  out,  too,  in  many 
very  small  things.  He  always  pays  out  the  most 
ragged  bill  he  has  or  the  smooth  or  notched  coin, 
reserving  the  bright,  clean  notes  and  the  new  coins 
for  himself.  He  accepts  compliments,  dinners  and 
other  favors  and  kindnesses,  but  never  returns 
them.  He  borrows  his  neighbor's  newspaper  to 
save  the  expense  of  buying  one  for  himself.  But 
to  no  one  is  he  so  mean  as  to  the  Lord  and  to  his 
church.  When  the  contribution-box  is  passed,  he 
selects  the  smallest  bit  of  money  in  his  pocket  to 


208  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

give.  When  subscriptions  are  asked,  he  puts  down 
the  least  amount  that  will  be  received,  and  then,  if 
possible,  will  in  the  end  evade  payment  altogether. 
He  is  a  small-souled,  graspiuij,  narrow-spirited 
man.  He  lives  only  for  self,  and  even  his  selfish- 
ness overreaches  itself,  for  in  the  eves  of  all  man- 
kind  nothing  is  more  despicable  than  meanness,  and 
nothing  brings  back  poorer  and  more  beggarly 
returns. 

All  of  these  are  unmanly  qualities.  It  does  not 
meet  the  case  to  say  that  they  are  minor  faults,  that 
we  ought  not  to  be  hypercritical,  that  we  should 
have  that  large  charity  which  covers  even  multi- 
tudes of  blemishes.  When  right  and  wrong  are 
involved,  there  are  no  little  things.  A  star  seems 
a  mere  speck  to  our  poor  vision,  but  to  God's  eye 
it  is  a  vast  burning  sun.  The  evils  that  we  deem 
so  minute,  in  Heaven's  sight  are  infinite.  There  is 
only  one  pattern  on  which  we  must  fashion  our 
lives,  and  in  that  there  is  no  fault.  The  word  of 
God  in  its  divine  requirements  makes  no  provision 
for  blemishes,  though  they  be  the  smallest. 

Then  a  little  thought  will  show  any  one  that 
even  the  most  trivial  of  these  things  do  not  only 
mar  the  bcautv  of  the  character  as  seen  bv  others, 
but  also  destroy  the  influence  of  the  person  in  the 


3IANLY  MEN.  209 

community.  A  man  who  becomes  known  as  un- 
faithful to  his  promises  and  appointments,  or  as 
careless  in  meeting  his  obligations,  in  paying  his 
debts  and  in  returning  what  he  has  borrowed,  soon 
wins  for  himself  a  very  unenviable  reputation. 
Such  a  man  has  no  power  for  good.  He  may 
preach  the  gospel  or  exhort  in  meetings  or  teach  in 
the  Sabbath-school,  but  his  words  avail  nothing, 
because  his  character  is  Avorm-eaten  and  he  has  lost 
the  confidence  and  resi)ect  of  his  neighbors.  All 
his  goodness  and  well-meaning  go  for  nothing 
while  even  in  the  smallest  matters  he  is  known 
to  be  untruthful  and  dishonest,  to  evade  paying 
his  debts,  or  even  to  be  careless  of  his  promises 
and  pledges. 

Who  has  not  known  the  usefulness  of  manv  an 
otherwise  excellent  man  utterly  destroyed  by  a 
negligent  disregard  of  his  obligations  and  engage- 
ments ?  Who  has  any  true  respect  for  a  mean 
man  ?  Meanness  defeats  its  own  object  and  wins 
contempt.  Even  as  a  matter  of  worldly  policy  it 
is  fatal  unwisdom.  Nothing  wins  in  the  marts  like 
generosity.  And  in  the  matter  of  manly  character 
it  is  a  most  despicable  blemish.  The  world  will 
forget  and  forgive  almost  anything  sooner  than 
meanness.      One  exhibition  of  such  a  spirit  in  a 


210  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

Cliristian  docs  incalculable  harm  to  Ills  influence, 
and  habitual  meanness  in  a  little  while  utterly 
wastes  his  })ower  for  usefulness.  How  long  can 
a  sneaking,  evasive,  gossipy  person  have  true 
friends  or  retain  the  respect  of  those  wdio  know 
him? 

We  may  call  these  trivial  blemishes,  and  it  may 
seem  hard  that,  while  a  man  is  good  in  the  staple 
of  his  character,  he  should  be  made  to  suffer  for 
such  minor  faults — mere  negligence  of  habit,  may- 
ha]),  or  mere  accidents  of  education — but  the  fact 
stares  us  in  the  face,  and  must  be  accepted  as  inex- 
orable. Even  the  ethics  of  the  world  condemns 
these  things  as  unmanly,  and  the  character  that 
suffers  itself  to  be  tarnished  by  them  must  pay  the 
penalty  in  diminished  or  utterly  destroyed  influence 
for  good. 

It  is  worth  our  while  to  study  closely  the  cha- 
racter of  true  manliness  as  we  have  its  type  and 
])attern  in  the  life  of  our  Lord.  We  soon  learn 
that  while  in  him  love  blossomed  out  in  all  that  is 
rich  and  beautiful  in  human  tenderness  and  gentle- 
ness, it  did  not  leave  him  weak  and  strenothless. 
Never  was  any  other  man  so  full  of  compassion,  so 
))itiful  toward  those  who  had  wandered,  so  patient 
in  bearing  \vrong  or  so  forgiving    toward  his  en- 


MANLY  MEN.  211 

« 

emies.  But  you  seek  in  vain  in  all  his  life  for  the 
faintest  trace  of  moral  feebleness.  To  him  sin  in 
any  form  was  unutterably  abhorrent.  Truth  shone 
in  every  lineament  of  his  soul.  He  was  the  em- 
bodiment of  courage.  All  the  active  virtues,  as 
well  as  the  passive,  were  exhibited  in  him.  He 
was  not  merely  a  patient  sufferer  ;  he  set  a-going  in 
the  world  the  mightiest  forces  of  divinity — forces 
whose  resistless  momentum  has  penetrated  all  the 
world's  life,  and  which  even  at  the  distance  of 
nineteen  centuries  have  lost  none  of  their  energy 
or  vitality.  He  was  not  a  weak  man  swept  along 
by  the  strong  currents  of  the  world's  passions  to  an 
unavoidable  destiny.  So  he  sometimes  appears  to 
superficial  observation,  but  so  he  was  not.  Every 
step  was  voluntary.  His  was  the  sublime  march 
of  a  king.  He  had  all  power  and  was  always  ac- 
tive, never  passive  even  in  what  seem  the  most 
helpless  hours  of  his  life.  He  laid  down  his  life ; 
he  had  power  to  lay  it  down.  Even  in  dying  he 
was  active,  voluntarily  giving  up  his  life. 

We  cannot  study  enough  this  sometimes  neg- 
lected phase  of  Christ's  life — the  force  and  pos- 
itiveness  of  his  character.  Patient  to  endure,  there 
was  yet  power  enough  in  his.  gentlest  word  to  make 
it  a  living  influence  for  uncounted  centuries.     His 


'212  WEKK-DAY  RELIGION. 

most  passive  moments  were  marked  by  exhibitions 
of  omnipotence.  Snbmitting  to  the  arresting  band, 
be  yet  put  fortli  liis  band  to  work  a  miracle  of 
bealing.  On  bis  cross  be  opened  heaven's  gates 
to  a  penitent  soul. 

Then  be  was  in  every  way  the  manliest  of  men — 
large-hearted,  noble-spirited,  generous  to  the  very 
uttermost  of  self-sacrifice.  No  microscopic  eye  can 
find  in  all  his  life  a  trace  of  selfishness  or  one 
token  of  meanness. 

Such  is  the  Pattern,  and  a  Christian  man  must  be 
strong  as  well  as  tender.  The  active  virtues  must 
be  cultivated  as  well  as  the  passive.  Meekness 
must  not  be  weakness.  The  soft  speech  must  not 
be  the  timid  utterance  of  moral  feebleness.  Like 
the  mighty  engine  which  can  polish  a  needle  or  cut 
a  bar  of  iron,  a  Christian  man  must  have  a  touch 
as  gentle  as  an  infant's  and  yet  possess  the  courage 
of  a  hero  to  smite  evil  and  to  do  the  Lord's  work. 
With  the  charity  that  beareth  all  things  and  en- 
dureth  all  things  he  must  have  the  force  of  charac- 
ter which  will  make  his  influence  a  mighty  positive 
power  for  good.  Truth  must  be  wrought  into  the 
very  grain  and  fibre  of  his  manhood.  His  word 
must  be  pure  as  gold.  His  lightest  promises  must 
be  as  sacredly  kept  as  his  most  solemn  engagements. 


3IANLY  MEN.  213 

He  must  be  a  large-hearted,  generous  man,  unsel- 
fish, noble-spirited,  above  all  suspicion  of  meanness. 
He  must  be  scrupulously  exact  in  all  his  dealings, 
promptly  returning  what  he  has  borrowed,  paying 
his  debts  the  very  day  they  are  due,  never  seeking  to 
evade  them,  never  forgetting  them,  nor  postponing 
payment  till  the  very  latest  time.  He  must  not  be 
a  hard  man,  close,  oppressive,  domineering,  des- 
potic. In  a  word,  he  must  combine  unflinching 
integrity,  unvarying  promptness  and  punctuality 
and  conscientious  truthfulness  with  generosity  and 
liberality. 

Such  a  man  will  grow  into  a  marvelous  power  in 
the  community  in  which  he  lives.  People  will  be- 
lieve in  his  religion  because  he  lives  it.  No  one 
will  sneer  when  he  exhorts  others  to  be  honest, 
upright  and  true,  prompt  and  punctual,  and  faithful 
to  utmost  scrupulousness  to  their  engagements. 
His  life  is  one  unflawed  crystal.  He  is  a  manly 
man.  Even  the  enemies  of  religion  respect  him. 
His  simplest  words  are  weighty.  His  whole  influ- 
ence is  for  truth  and  nobleness.  His  daily  life  is  a 
sermon.  God  is  honored  and  the  world  is  blessed 
by  his  living. 


XXII. 

BOOKS  AND  READING. 

"  The  wish  falls  often  warm  upon  my  heart  that  I  may  learn 
notliing  here  that  I  cannot  continue  in  the  other  world — tliat  I 
may  do  nothing  here  but  deeds  that  will  bear  fruit  in  heaven." 

KiCHTER. 

"TT  is  said  that  it  would  require  hundreds  of  years 
-*-  to  read  the  titles  alone  of  all  the  books  in  the 
world's  libraries.  Even  of  those  that  issue  each 
year  from  the  press  newly  written,  one  person  can 
read  but  a  very  meagre  percentage.  It  is  therefore 
a  physical  impossibility  to  read  all  the  books  which 
the  art  of  printing  has  put  within  our  reach.  Even 
if  our  whole  time  were  to  be  devoted  to  reading, 
we  could  in  our  brief  years  peruse  but  a  very  small 
portion  of  them.  Then  it  must  be  considered  that 
in  these  busy  days,  when  active  duties  press  so  im- 
periously, the  most  of  us  can  devote  but  a  few 
hours  each  day  at  the  best  to  reading,  and  very 
many  find,  not  hours,  but  minutes  only,  for  this 

214 


BOOKS  AND  READING.  215 

purpose.  There  are  hosts  of  busy  people  who 
cannot  read  more  than  a  score  of  books  in  a  year. 

It  is  settled,  therefore,  for  us  all,  that  we  must 
be  content  to  leave  the  great  mass  of  printed  books 
unread.  Even  those  who  are  favored  with  most 
leisure  cannot  read  one  in  a  thousand  or  ten  thou- 
sand of  the  books  that  offer  themselves.  And  those 
whose  hands  are  full  of  activities  can  scarcely  touch 
the  great  mountain  of  printed  matter  that  looms  up 
invitingly  before  them. 

The  important  question,  then,  is,  On  what  prin- 
ciple should  we  select  out  of  this  great  wilderness 
of  literature  the  books  we  shall  read?  If  I  can 
read  but  a  dozen  volumes  this  year,  how  am  I  to 
determine  what  volumes  of  the  thousands  they 
shall  be? 

For  all  books  are  not  alike  good.  There  are 
books  that  are  not  worth  reading  at  all.  Then,  of 
those  that  are  good,  the  value  is  relative.  The 
simplest  wisdom  teaches  that  we  should  choose 
those  which  will  repay  us  most  richly.  Let  us 
look  at  some  principles  relating  to  this  subject 
which  are  worthy  of  consideration. 

There  are  books  that  are  tainted  with  impurity. 
Of  course  all  such  are  to  be  excluded  from  our 
catalogue.     We  can  no  more  afford  to  read  a  vile 


2 1  6  WEEK-DA  Y  RELIGION. 

book,  however  daintily  and  dcliratdy  the  vileness 
may  be  drajx'd,  than  we  can  afford  to  admit  an  im- 
pure companion.shij)  into  our  lives.  Perliaps  the 
most  of  us  are  not  sufficiently  careful  in  this  matter. 
The  country  is  flooded  with  publications,  oftentimes 
attractively  prepared,  elaborately  illustrated,  their 
impurity  concealed  under  harmless  titles,  but  in 
which  lurks  the  fatal  poison  of  moral  death. 
Many  good  people  are  beguiled  into  reading  books 
or  papers  of  this  class  as  a  recreation.  When  we 
remember  that  everything  we  read  leaves  its  im- 
pression upon  our  inner  life  and  makes  its  enduring 
mark  upon  our  character,  the  importance  of  this  sub- 
ject appears.  The  geologist  will  take  you  to  some 
old  rock-formation,  and  will  show  you,  on  what  was 
once  the  shore  of  an  ancient  sea,  the  traces  left 
by  the  waves,  the  tracks  of  the  bird  that  walked 
along  in  the  ;iand  one  day,  and  the  ])rint  of  the  leaf 
that  fell  and  lay  tliere.  The  shore  hardened  into 
rock,  and  the  rock  holds  every  trace  through  all 
these  centuries.  So  it  is  in  character-buildino;. 
Everything  that  we  take  into  our  life  leaves  its 
permanent  impression. 

Then,  when  we  consider  the  subject  from  a  Chris- 
tian view-point,  it  becomes  even  more  important. 
Our   work  here  is  spiritual  culture.      We  are  to 


BOOKS  AND  READING.  217 

keep  most  sedulous  watch  over  our  hearts  that 
nothing  shall  tarnish  their  purity.  We  are  to 
admit  into  our  minds  nothing  that  may  dim  our 
spiritual  vision  or  break  in  any  degree  the  conti- 
nuity of  our  communion  with  God  ;  and  it  is  well 
known  that  any  corrupt  thing,  admitted  even  for 
a  moment  into  our  thoughts,  not  only  stains  our 
mind,  but  leaves  a  memory  that  may  draw  a  trail 
of  stain  after  it  for  ever.  It  is  related  of  a  cel- 
ebrated painter  that  he  could  not  look  upon  a  dis- 
gusting object  when  engaged  in  his  work  without 
seeing  the  effect  of  it  in  the  productions  of  his 
brush  and  pencil  afterward.  A  distinguished 
clergyman,  in  speaking  of  the  effect  upon  the 
mind  of  reading  certain  classes  of  literature,  gives 
a  bit  of  his  own  experience.  He  was  beguiled  into 
reacliiig  a  number  of  the  works  of  a  pojjular  writer 
which  were  not  supposed  to  have  any  irreligion  in 
them,  but  he  could  not  preach  with  any  comfort 
for  six  months  afterward.  If  we  would  keep  the 
tender  joy  of  our  heart-experiences  unbroken,  we 
must  hold  the  most  rigid  watch  over  our  reading, 
conscientiously  excluding  not  only  all  that  is  ob- 
viously impure,  but  all  in  which  lurks  even  a 
su2:2:estion  of  wronar. 

Then  there  are  books  that  are  free  from  immoral 


218  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

taint  tJKit  \vc  niiiHt  exclude  also  unless  we  want  tc 
throw  away  our  time  and  waste  our  opportunities 
for  improvement.  They  are  unobjectionable  on 
moral  grounds,  but  are  vapid,  frivolous,  empty. 
There  are  many  popular  novels  that  have  even  a 
sort  of  religious  odor  which  yet  teach  nothing,  give 
no  upward  imjiulse,  furnish  no  food  for  thought, 
add  no  additional  fact  to  our  store  of  knowledge, 
leave  no  touch  of  beautv.  There  is  nothinp;  in 
them.  There  is  a  great  demand  in  these  days  for 
this  easy  kind  of  reading.  It  agrees  well  with 
the  indolent  disposition  of  many  who  want  noth- 
ing that  requires  close  application  or  vigorous 
thinking  or  patient,  earnest  mental  toil.  It  is 
not  directly  harmful.  It  could  not  be  indicted 
for  bad  moral  quality  or  influence.  It  leaves  no 
debris  of  vile  rubbish  behind.  It  may  be  ortho- 
dox, full  of  sentimental  talk  about  religion  and 
of  pious  moralizing  on  sundry  duties.  It  starts 
no  impure  suggestion.  It  teaches  no  false  doc- 
trine or  wrong  principle.  It  debauches  no  con- 
science. It  flows  over  our  souls  like  soft  senti- 
mental music. 

And  yet  it  is  decidedly  evil  in  its  effects  upon 
mind  and  heart.  It  imparts  no  vigor.  It  minis- 
ters  to  none   of  the  functions  of  life.      Then  it 


BOOKS  AND  BEADING.  219 

vitiates  the  appetite,  enervates  the  mind  and  de- 
stroys all  taste  for  anything  solid  and  substantial 
in  literature.  It  so  enfeebles  the  powers  of  atten- 
tion, thought,  memory  and  all  the  intellectual 
machinery  that  there  is  no  ability  left  to  grapple 
with  really  important  subjects.  Next  to  the  great 
evil  produced  by  impure  and  tainted  literature 
comes  the  debilitating  influence  of  the  enormous 
flood  of  trashy,  worthless  publications  filling  the 
country. 

If  we  can  read  in  our  brief,  busy  years  but  a 
very  limited  number  of  books  of  any  kind,  should 
not  those  few  be  the  very  best,  richest,  most  sub- 
stantial and  useful  that  we  can  find  in  the  whole 
range  of  literature  ?  If  one  hundred  books  lie 
before  me  and  I  have  time  to  read  but  one  of 
them,  if  I  am  wise  will  I  not  select  that  one 
which  will  bring  to  me  the  largest  amount  of  in- 
formation, which  will  start  in  my  mind  the  grandest 
thoughts,  the  noblest  impulses,  the  brightest  con- 
ceptions, the  purest  emotions,  or  which  sets  before 
me  the  truest  ideals  of  manly  virtue  and  heroic 
character  ? 

But  how  do  most  persons  read  ?  On  what  prin- 
ciple do  they  decide  what  to  read  or  what  not  to 
read  ?     Is  there  one  in  a  hundred  who  ever  gives 


220  WEEK-DA  Y  RELIGION. 

a  serious  tlionght  to  the  question  or  makes  any 
intelligent  choice  whatever?  With  many  it  is 
"the  last  novel,"  utterly  regardless  of  what  it  is. 
With  others  it  is  anything  that  is  talked  about 
or  extensively  advertised.  We  live  in  a  time 
when  the  trivial  is  glorified  and  magnified  and 
held  up  in  the  blaze  of  sensation,  so  as  to  attract 
the  gaze  of  the  multitude  and  sell.  That  is  all 
many  books  are  made  for — to  sell.  They  are  writ- 
ten for  money,  they  are  set  up  in  type,  stereotyped, 
printed,  illustrated,  bound,  ornamented,  titled,  sim- 
ply for  money.  There  is  no  soul  in  them.  There 
was  no  high  motive,  no  thought  all  along  their  his- 
tory of  doing  good  to  any  one,  of  starting  a  new 
impulse,  of  adding  to  the  fund  of  the  world's  joy 
or  comfort  or  knowledge.  They  were  wrought  out 
of  mercenary  brains.  They  were  made  to  sell,  and 
to  sell  they  must  appeal  to  the  desire  for  sensation, 
excitement,  romance,  or  diversion.  So  it  comes  to 
pass  that  the  country  is  flooded  with  utterly  worth- 
less publications,  whilst  really  good  and  valuable 
books  are  left  unsold  and  unread.  The  multitude 
goes  into  ecstasies  over  ephemeral  tales,  weekly  lit- 
erary papers,  new,  sentimental  poems,  magazines, 
and  a  thousand  trivial  works  that  please  or  excite 
for  a  day  and  are  then   old  and  forgotten  in  the 


BOOKS  AND  READING.  221 

intense  and  thrilling  plot  of  the  story  that  is  new- 
est and  latest  to-morrow,  whilst  books  every  way 
admirable  are  passed  by  unnoticed. 

Hence,  while  everybody  reads,  few  read  the 
grand  masters.  Modern  culture  knows  all  about 
the  auroral  literature  that  flashes  up  and  dies 
out  again,  but  knows  nothing  of  history  or  true 
poetry  or  really  great  fiction.  Many  people  who 
have  not  the  courage  to  confess  ignorance  of  the 
last  novel  regard  it  as  no  shame  to  be  utterly 
ignorant  of  the  majestic  old  classics.  In  the  floods 
of  ephemeral  literature  the  great  books  are  buried 
away.  It  is  pretty  safe  to  say  that  not  one  in  a 
hundred  now  reads  Milton's  Paradise  Lost,  and 
that  not  one  in  a  thousand  has  ever  read  a  trans- 
lation of  Homer's  Iliad.  Every  one  goes  into 
ra  tures  over  some  sentimental  song-writer  of  a 
d  ;-,  but  how  many  read  even  the  great  master- 
pieces of  Shakespeare  ?  The  Pilgrim^ s  Progress  is 
only  known  from  being  referred  to  so  often,  while 
the  thousand  summer  volumes  on  sentimental  re- 
ligion are  eagerly  devoured  by  pious  people. 

It  is  time  for  a  revolution  on  this  subject.  We 
must  gain  courage  to  remain  ignorant  of  the  great 
mass  of  books  in  the  annual  Nile-overflow  of  the 
'  finting-press.     We  must  read  the  great  mas/ers 


222  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

in  ])oetry,  in  science,  in  liistory,  in  relii^icin,  in  fic- 
tion, and  we  must  have  a  system  by  wliich  our 
reading  shall  be  rigidly  controlled  and  directed, 
or  we  shall  spend  all  our  life  and  not  be  profited. 
Aimless  rambling  from  book  to  book  accom})lishes 
little.  We  should  select  conscientiously,  wisely, 
systematically. 

Having  stricken  from  the  catalogue  everything 
that  bears  any  immoral  taint  and  whatever  is 
merely  ephemeral  and  trivial,  there  remains  a 
grand  residuum  of  truly  great  works,  some  old, 
some  new,  from  which  we  must  again  select  accord- 
ing to  our  individual  taste,  occupation,  leisure, 
attainments  and  opportunities.  We  should  read 
as  a  staple  works  that  require  close  attention, 
thought,  study  and  research,  indulging  in  lighter 
classes  only  for  mental  relaxation.  The  old  classic 
poets  should  be  not  only  read,  but  deeply  studied. 
Of  history  one  should  have  at  least  a  correct  gen- 
eral knowledge.  One  cannot  afford  to  be  ignorant 
of  the  sciences  in  these  days  of  discovery. 

All  books  that  set  before  us  grand  ideals  of 
character  are  in  some  sense  great.  The  ancients 
W'ere  wont  to  place  the  statues  of  their  distin- 
guished ancestors  about  their  homes  that  their 
children  might,  by  contemplating  them,  be  stim- 


BOOKS  AND  READING.  223 

iilated  to  emulate  their  noble  qualities.  Great  lives 
embalmed  in  printed  volumes  have  a  wondrous 
power  to  kindle  the  hearts  of  the  young,  for  "a 
good  book  holds,  as  in  a  vial,  the  purest  efficacy 
and  extraction  of  the  living  intellect  that  bred  it.'^ 
There  are  great  books  enough  to  occupy  us  during 
all  our  short  and  busy  years ;  and  if  we  are  wise, 
we  will  resolutely  avoid  all  but  the  richest  and 
the  best.  As  one  has  written,  "  We  need  to  be 
reminded  every  day  how  many  are  the  books  of 
inimitable  glory  which,  with  all  our  eagerness  after 
reading,  we  have  never  taken  in  our  hands.  It 
will  astonish  most  of  us  to  find  how  much  of  our 
industry  is  given  to  the  books  which  leave  no 
mark — how  often  we  rake  in  the  litter  of  the 
printing-press  while  a  crown  of  gold  and  rubies 
is  oifered  us  in  vain," 


XXIII. 

PERSONAL  BEAUTY. 

rriHE  desire  to  be  beautiful  is  natural  and  right. 
-*-  Holiness  is  beauty.  The  human  form,  when 
it  first  came  from  the  Creator's  hands,  was  perfect 
in  loveliness.  It  was  the  embodiment  of  all  that 
is  noble,  graceful,  winning,  impressive  and  charm- 
ing. We  cannot  doubt  that  God  made  a  perfect 
body  as  the  temple  and  home  of  a  perfect  soul  that 
bore  his  own  image.  He  who  made  all  things 
beautiful  certainly  gave  the  highest  loveliness  to 
his  masterpiece. 

But  sin  has  marred  the  grace  of  the  human 
form.  Perfect  physical  beauty  is  not  found  in 
any  one.  There  are  fragments  of  tlie  shattered 
splendor  found — one  feature  in  one,  and  another  in 
another — by  which  we  have  hints  of  what  the  orig- 
inal was.  The  artists  have  tried  to  reproduce  the 
first  perfect  beauty  by  gathering  from  many  forms 
these  fragments  of  loveliness  and  combining  them 

224 


PERSONAL  BEAUTY.  225 

all  in  one,  which  they  call  the  ideal  human  beauty. 
They  point  to  certain  remains  of  ancient  Greek 
sculpture  as  presenting,  as  nearly  as  human  skill 
can  do  it,  the  restored  beauty  of  creation. 

How  far  art  may  have  succeeded  in  achieving  its 
aim  we  know  not.  We  cannot  tell  whether  the 
Apollo  Belvidere  is  or  is  not  a  restored  Adam, 
or  whether  the  Venus  de  Medici  fairly  represents 
the  beauty  of  Eve.  This  is  not  our  inquiry  at 
this  time.  But  we  know  that  all  Christian  life  is 
a  growth  toward  perfect  beauty.  Christ  came  to 
restore  ruined  nature  to  its  lost  loveliness.  This 
is  true  not  only  of  the  spiritual  life,  but  also  of 
the  physical  form.  We  are  to  wear  the  spotless 
image  of  our  Lord  in  the  future  world.  Perhaps 
we  do  not  always  realize  the  full  meaning  of  this 
truth  as  it  is  declared  in  the  Scriptures.  It  is 
explicitly  and  positively  taught  that  Christ  will 
change  our  vile  bodies  and  fashion  them  like  unto 
his  own  glorified  body.  This  corruptible  must 
put  on  incorruption,  and  this  mortal  must  put  on 
immortality.  This  is  not  the  place  for  speculations 
as  to  the  nature  or  material  of  the  resurrection 
body,  and  it  may  only  be  said  further  that  the 
plain,  clear  teachings  of  inspiration  are  that  all 
blemishes   and    infirmities   are   to   be   left   in   the 

15 


2*26  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

e^rave.  There  will  be  no  deformities  in  the  new 
bodv.  There  will  be  no  sin  and  no  disease.  All 
the  work  of  sin  is  to  be  undone  by  redemption, 
and  hence  the  body  will  be  restored  to  its  original 
perfectness.  Thus  the  development  of  Christian 
life  is  toward  perfect  beauty,  and  the  desire  to  be 
beautiful  in  form  and  feature,  unless  perverted,  is  a 
proper  and  holy  desire. 

What,  then,  is  true  personal  beauty?  Answer- 
ing the  question  from  a  Christian  point  of  view, 
we  know  that  it  does  not  consist  in  mere  physical 
charms,  in  proportion,  grace,  figure,  complexion, 
but  in  the  life,  the  soul  that  looks  out  through 
these  windows. 

"  Wliat  is  beauty  ?     Not  the  show 
Of  graceful  limbs  and  features.     No; 

These  are  but  flowers 

That  have  their  dated  hours 
To  breathe  their  momentary  sweets,  tlien  go. 

'Tis  the  stainless  soul  within 

That  outshines  the  fairest  skin." 

It  is  a  well-known  and  universally-accepted 
principle  that  the  soul  gives  to  the  body  its  form, 
and  that  the  life  whites  its  whole  history  in  the 
features  of  the  face.  A  beautiful  character  will 
transfigure  the  countenance.  You  look  into  it, 
and  you  read  refinement,  purity,  delicacy,   peace, 


PERSONAL  BEAUTY.  227 

love.  In  like  manner,  an  evil  character  hangs 
its  curtains  at  all  the  windows,  and  you  see  at  a 
glance  selfishness,  cunning,  lust,  deceit,  falsehood, 
malignity,  coarseness,  unrest.  So  all  spiritual  cul- 
ture is  toward  beauty,  for  as  the  heart  becomes 
filled  with  the  holy  graces  of  the  Spirit  they  make 
themselves  manifest  in  the  transforming  of  the 
features. 

It  was  sin  that  shattered  the  original  splendor 
of  the  human  form.  All  blemishes,  disfigure- 
ments and  deformities  have  been  produced  by  vio- 
lations of  divine  laws,  by  over-indulgence  of  pas- 
sions and  appetites,  and  by  diseases  and  infirmities 
resulting  therefrom.  Hence  all  true  searching  for 
beauty  must  be  along  the  path  on  which  it  was 
lost.  Those  who  would  recover  and  retain  loveli- 
ness of  form  and  feature  must  seek  to  have  the 
divine  laws  written  upon  their  hearts  ^d  assim- 
ilated in  their  lives. 

The  observance  of  the  physical  laws  of  our  be- 
ing is  of  vital  importance.  These  are  inexorable. 
There  is  no  forgiveness  for  their  violation.  A  large 
part  of  the  misery  and  wretchedness  of  this  world 
comes  from  the  disregard  of  these  precepts.  The 
beauty  as  well  as  the  comfort  and  happiness  of  men 
and  women  would  be  immeasurably  advanced  if  all 


228  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

could  be  brought  to  obey,  strictly  and  invariably, 
the  simple  laws  of  physical  life. 

Then  still  more  essential  is  the  observance  of 
moral  and  spiritual  precepts.  The  soul  informs  its 
own  dwelling.  There  is  no  beauty  in  the  idiot's 
face.  The  most  perfect  features  have  scant  loveli- 
ness when  there  is  a  vacant  mind  behind  them. 
Selfishness  wipes  out  the  soft  and  tender  lines  and 
leaves  the  cheeks  faded  and  cold.  Cleanness  de- 
grades the  majesty  of  the  countenance  and  takes 
the  kingly  glory  from  the  eyes.  Greed  petrifies  the 
features.  Anger,  nourished  and  cherished,  writes 
itself  upon  the  visage.  Impurity  of  soul  and  life 
robs  the  expression  of  the  bloom  of  innocence  and 
hangs  its  telltale  marks  all  about  the  face.  It  is 
utterly  vain  to  hope  to  be  beautiful  with  bad  tem- 
pers, groveling  tastes  or  base  passions  ruling  in  the 
heart.  The  face  may  still  wreathe  itself  with  smiles. 
The  greatest  pains  may  still  be  taken  to  cherish  and 
retain  the  bloom  and  freshness  of  innocence.  But 
it  is  in  vain.  A  discrowned  soul  cannot  long  pre- 
serve in  its  palace  the  splendors  and  glories  of  its 
days  of  power  and  majesty.  The  inner  life  writes 
every  line  of  its  history  on  the  features,  where  the 
practiced  eye  can  read  its  every  word. 

So,  also,  beauty  of  soul  exhibits  itself  in  the  ex- 


PERSONAL  BEAUTY.  229 

presslon.  Ivindness  wreathes  the  face  with  gen- 
tleness. Holy  thoughts  refine  the  countenance. 
Grand  purposes,  noble  resolves,  high  aspirations, 
clothe  the  form  and  features  with  dignity  and 
power.  Sincerity  and  truth  transfigure  even  the 
homeliest  looks. 

Those  who  would  cultivate  personal  beauty  must 
look  to  their  inner  life.  As  the  dweller's  taste  and 
refinement  always  manifest  themselves  in  the  adorn- 
ment of  his  home,  so  goodness  and  moral  beauty  in 
a  soul  will  always  exhibit  themselves  in  look  and 
manner  and  bearing. 

Hence  there  is  no  beautifier  of  the  person  like 
the  Holy  Ghost  dwelling  in  a  lowly  heart.  The 
plainest  features  are  often  made  to  shine  in  almost 
supernatural  loveliness  when  struck  through  with 
the  warmth  and  tenderness  of  indwelling  love. 
The  most  beautiful  people  in  the  world  are  truly 
benevolent  people,  their  hearts  full  of  sympathy 
aud  kindness  and  their  lives  devoted  to  labors  of 
love  for  the  good  of  the  race.  The  sweetest  faces  I 
ever  saw  were  those  of  dear  old  Quaker  mothers. 
All  their  life  through  they  have  kept  their  hearts 
at  peace.  They  have  never  resisted,  never  defended 
their  rights,  never  struggled  against  circumstances. 
They  have  quietly  submitted  to  the  will  of  God, 


230  WKEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

and  liis  calm  and  lioly  peace  has  filled  their  souls 
and  ruled  their  lives.  This  blessed  peace,  indwell- 
ing, has  made  their  faces  almost  transj)arent,  radiant 
Avith  the  radiance  of  heaven  and  lovely  beyond  any 
])icture  on  this  earth.  Old  age  writes  no  lines  of 
decay  and  leaves  no  marks  of  wasting  or  fading 
upon  them.  The  sweetness  and  freshness  of  youth 
linger  through  all  the  chill  winter  of  years,  like 
those  tender  plants  and  flowers  that  creep  out  in 
springtime  from  under  melting  snows  unharmed 
and  fragrant.  An  anxious  and  fretful  disposition 
simply  reverses  all  this. 

Love  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law — not  selfish 
love,  but  the  love  that  goes  out  in  self-denial,  in 
sympathy,  in  kindness,  in  continual  thought  and 
effort  and  sacrifice  for  others.  Such  love  builds 
beauty  for  its  home,  just  as  the  chaste  and  delicate 
flower  by  its  own  nature  fashions  for  itself  a  form 
of  exquisite  shape  and  hue.  ''  The  angels  are 
beautiful  because  they  are  good,  and  God  is  beauty 
because  he  is  love.''  Men  and  women  grow  lovely 
even  in  outward  feature  just  in  the  degree  in  which 
thev  become  filled  with  the  love  of  God. 

Not,  then,  to  the  outside  must  our  care  be  given, 
but  to  the  culture  of  the  heart.  A  beautiful  soul 
will  transform  the  most  repulsive  features.     On  the 


PERSONAL  BEAUTY.  231 

other  hand,  a  bad  heart  will  break  through  natural 
loveliness,  spoiling  its  delicacy  and  beauty.  When 
God  took  from  a  devoted  mother  a  precious  and 
her  only  child,  she,  to  occupy  her  heart  and  hands 
in  some  way  about  her  vanished  treasure,  filled  the 
first  days  with  touching  a  faithful  photograph  of 
her  child  which  she  possessed.  Love  wrought  very 
skillfully,  and  under  her  brush  the  very  features  of 
the  sweet,  coy  child-life  came  out  in  the  picture. 
The  photograph  was  laid  carefully  away  for  a  few 
days,  and  when  she  sought  it  again  the  eyes  were 
dimmed  and  the  face  marred  with  strange  and  ugly 
blotches.  Patiently  she  wrought  it  over  a  second 
time,  and  the  beauty  was  restored.  Again  it  was 
laid  away,  and  again  the  ugly  blotches  appeared. 
The  fault  was  in  the  paper  on  which  the  photo- 
graph had  been  taken.  There  were  chemicals  lurk- 
ing in  it  which  affected  the  delicate  colors.  The  an- 
alogy holds  in  human  lives.  We  may  adorn  the  face 
and  features  as  we  will.  By  art  and  skill  and  care 
we  may  try  to  keep  the  complexion  fair,  the  skin 
fresh  and  soft  and  the  whole  countenance  beautiful ; 
but  if  there  are  within  us  selfish  hearts,  groveling 
dispositions,  uncontrolled  appetites,  they  will  work 
out  through  the  surface- beauty,  and  will  blotch  and 
spoil  it  all. 


232  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

The  true  culture  of  personal  beauty  is  not  ex- 
ternal ;  it  is  licart-work.  It  is  not  the  liot  sun,  the 
high  winds,  or  any  climatic  accidents,  that  steal 
from  cheeks  their  truest  loveliness.  I  see  ladies 
taking  the  most  wonderful  care  to  keep  their  com- 
plexions soft  anil  white.  They  shield  themselves 
scrupulously  from  wind  and  sun  and  reflection.  If 
we  were  all  to  give  as  much  thought  and  j^ains  to 
keep  the  bloom  of  our  heart's  purity  untarnished 
and  the  warmth  and  sweetness  of  our  heart's  life 
unwanted,  our  faces  would  soon  shine  with  the  lus- 
tre of  angelic  beauty. 

There  are  some  who  can  never  hope  to  be  phys- 
ically beautiful  in  face  and  form  in  this  world. 
Their  visages  are  in  some  way  marred.  Accident 
or  disease  has  left  them  disfigured.  Or  the  sins  of 
past  generations  have  visited  them  in  the  shape  of 
some  physical  deformity  that  dooms  them  to  live  in 
a  ruined  soul-house  all  their  days.  But  even  to  such 
Christ  brings  the  possibility  of  the  rarest  beauty. 
The  deformed  Christian  will  walk  erect  in  beauti- 
ful womanhood  or  majestic  manhood  on  the  shores 
of  immortality.  The  face  scarred  by  the  flames 
will  appear  in  unblemished  loveliness  in  the  new 
home.  Wrinkled  age  will  get  back  all  the  fresh- 
ness of  childhood.     Christ  is  able  to  take  the  mean- 


PERSONAL  BEA  UTY.  233 

est  fragment  of  humanity  and  make  it  all  glorious 
and  divine.  As  the  summer  takes  the  barest  tree 
from  the  clasp  of  winter,  covers  it  with  garments 
of  green  and  steeps  it  in  fragrance,  so  the  Lord 
Jesus  can  take  the  most  ill-formed,  the  barest  and 
most  unsightly  character  and  clothe  it  in  the  gar- 
ments of  grace  and  love. 

A  piece  of  canvas  is  of  a  trifling  value.  You 
can  buy  it  for  a  few  pennies.  You  would  scarcely 
think  it  worth  picking  up  if  you  saw  it  lying  in 
the  street.  But  an  artist  takes  it  and  draws  a  few 
lines  and  figures  on  it,  and  then  with  his  brush 
touches  in  certain  colors,  and  the  canvas  is  sold 
for  hundreds  of  dollars.  So  Christ  takes  up  a 
ruined,  worthless  human  life  which  has  no  beauty, 
no  attractiveness,  but  is  repulsive,  blotched  and 
stained  by  sin.  Then  the  fingers  of  his  love  add 
touches  of  beauty,  painting  the  divine  image  upon 
it,  and  it  becomes  precious,  glorious,  immortal. 


XXIV. 

TAKING  CHEERFUL  VIEWS. 

/^NE  of  the  divinest  secrets  of  a  happy  life 
^^  is  the  art  of  extracting  comfort  and  sweet- 
ness from  every  circumstance.  Some  one  has 
said  that  the  habit  of  looking  on  the  bright  side 
is  worth  a  thousand  pounds  a  year.  It  is  a  wand 
whose  power  exceeds  that  of  any  fabled  conjurer^s 
to  change  all  things  into  blessings.  Those  who 
take  cheerful  views  find  happiness  everywhere, 
and  yet  how  rare  is  the  habit !  The  multitude 
prefer  to  walk  on  the  shady  side  of  the  ways  of 
life.  One  writes  of  the  "  luxury  of  woe,"  and 
there  would  seem  to  be  a  meaning  in  the  phrase, 
paradoxical  as  it  appears.  There  are  those  who 
take  to  gloom  as  a  bat  to  darkness  or  as  a  vulture 
to  carrion.  They  would  rather  nurse  a  misery  than 
cherish  a  joy.  They  always  find  the  dark  side  of 
everything,  if  there  is  a  dark  side  to  be  found. 
They  appear  to  be  conscientious  grumblers,  as  if 


TAKING  CHEERFUL  VIEWS.  235 

it  were  their  duty  to  extract  some  essence  of  misery 
from  every  circumstance.  The  weather  is  either 
too  cold  or  too  hot,  too  wet  or  too  dry.  They 
never  find  anything  to  their  taste.  Nothing 
escapes  their  criticism.  They  find  fault  with  the 
food  on  the  table,  with  the  bed  in  which  they  lie, 
with  the  railroad-train  or  steamboat  on  which  they 
travel,  with  the  government  and  its  officials,  with 
merchant  and  w^orkman — in  a  word,  with  the 
world  at  large  and  in  detail.  They  are  chronic 
grumblers.  Instead  of  being  content  in  the  state 
in  which  they  are,  they  have  learned  to  be  discon- 
tented, no  matter  how  happy  their  lot.  If  they 
had  been  placed  in  Eden,  they  would  have  dis- 
covered something  with  which  to  find  fault.  Their 
wretched  habit  empties  life  of  possible  joy  for  them 
and  turns  every  cup  to  gall. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  are  rare  spirits  who 
always  take  cheerful  views  of  life.  They  look  at 
the  bright  side.  They  find  some  joy  and  beauty 
everywhere.  If  the  sky  is  covered  with  clouds, 
they  will  point  out  to  you  the  splendor  of  some 
great  cloud-bank  piled  up  like  mountains  of  glory. 
When  the  storm  rages,  instead  of  fears  and  com- 
plaints, they  find  an  exquisite  pleasure  in  contem- 
plating  its   grandeur  and  majesty.      In  the  most 


236  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

faulty  picture  tliey  see  some  bit  of  beauty  which 
charms  tliem.  In  tlie  most  disagreeable  person 
they  discover  some  kindly  trait  or  some  bud  of 
promise.  In  the  most  disheartening  circumstances 
they  find  something  for  which  to  be  thankful,  some 
gleam  of  cheer  breaking  in  through  the  thick 
gloom. 

When  a  ray  of  sunlight  streamed  through  a 
crack  in  the  shutter  and  made  a  bright  patch  on 
the  floor  in  the  darkened  room,  the  little  dog  rose 
from  his  dark  corner  and  went  and  lay  down  in 
the  one  sunny  spot ;  and  these  people  live  in  the 
same  philosophical  way.  If  there  be  one  beam  of 
cheer  or  hope  anywhere  in  their  lot,  they  will  find 
it.  They  have  a  genius  for  happiness.  They 
always  make  the  best  out  of  circumstances.  They 
are  happy  as  travelers.  They  are  contented  as 
boarders.  Their  good  nature  never  fails.  They 
take  a  cheerful  view  of  every  perplexity.  Even 
in  sorrow  their  faces  are  illumined,  and  songs  come 
from  the  chambers  where  they  weep.  Such  persons 
have  a  wondrous  ministry  in  this  world.  They 
are  like  apple  trees  when  covered  with  blossoms, 
pouring  sweetness  all  about  them. 

It  may  be  worth  while  to  linger  a  little  on  the 
philosophy  of  living  which  produces  such  results. 


TAKING  CHEERFUL  VIEWS.  237 

Some  people  are  born  with  sunny  dispositions,  with 
large  hopefulness  and  joyfulness,  and  with  eyes  for 
the  bright  side  of  life.  Others  are  naturally  dis- 
posed to  gloom.  Physical  causes  have,  no  doubt, 
much  to  do  with  the  discontent  of  many  lives. 
Dyspepsia  or  a  disordered  liver  is  responsible  for 
much  bad  temper,  low  spirits  and  melancholy; 
and  yet,  while  there  is  this  predisposition  in  tem- 
perament on  the  one  hand  toward  hopefulness,  and 
on  the  other  toward  depression  and  gloom,  it  is 
still  largely  a  matter  of  culture  and  habit,  for 
which  we  are  individually  responsible.  Young 
persons  certainly  can  train  themselves  to  take 
cheerful  views  of  life  and  to  extract  enjoyment 
from  any  circumstances. 

This  is  clearly  a  most  important  part  of  Chris- 
tian culture.  Joyfulness  is  everywhere  commended 
as  a  Christian  duty.  Discontent  is  a  most  detest- 
able fault.  Morbidness  is  a  sin.  Fretfulness  grieves 
God.  It  tells  of  unbelief.  It  destroys  the  soul's 
peace.  It  disfigures  the  beauty  of  Christian  char- 
acter. It  not  only  makes  us  soured  and  unhappy 
in  our  own  hearts,  but  its  influence  on  others  is 
bad.  We  have  no  right  to  project  the  gloom  of 
our  discontent  over  any  other  life.  Our  ministry  is 
to   be  ever  toward  joy.     There  is  nothing  so  de- 


238  WEEK-DA  Y  RELIGION. 

pressing  in  its  cfTbct  upon  others  as  morbidness. 
Plence,  for  the  sake  of  those  among  whom  we  live 
and  upon  whose  lives  we  are  for  ever  unconsciously 
either  casting  shadows  or  pouring  sunshine,  we 
should  seek  to  learn  this  Christian  art  of  content- 
ment. 

"What  are  some  of  the  elements  of  this  divine 
philosophy  of  living? 

One  is  patient  submission  to  ills  and  hardships 
which  are  unavoidable.  No  lot  is  perfect.  No 
mortal  ever  yet  found  a  set  of  circumstances  with- 
out some  unpleasant  feature.  Sometimes  it  is  in 
our  power  to  modify  the  discomforts.  Our  trouble 
is  often  of  our  own  making.  Much  of  it  needs 
only  a  little  energetic  activity  on  our  part  to  re- 
move it.  We  are  fools  if  we  live  on  amid  ills 
and  hardships  which  a  reasonable  industry  would 
change  to  comforts,  or  even  pleasures. 

But  if  there  are  inevitable  ills  or  burdens  which 
we  cannot  by  any  energy  of  our  own  remove  or 
lighten,  they  must  be  submitted  to  without  mur- 
muring. We  have  a  saying  that  "  What  cannot  be 
cured  must  be  endured."  But  the  very  phrasing 
tells  of  an  unyielding  heart.  There  is  submission 
to  the  inevitable,  but  no  reconciliation.  True  con- 
tentment does  not  chafe  under  disappointments  and 


TAKING   CHEERFUL  VIEWS.  239 

losses,  but  accepts  them,  becomes  reconciled  to 
them,  and  at  once  looks  about  to  find  something 
good  in  them.  This  is  the  secret  of  happy  living. 
And  when  we  come  to  think  of  it,  how  senseless  it 
is  to  struggle  against  the  inevitable!  Discontent 
helps  nothing.  It  never  removes  a  hardship  or 
makes  a  burden  any  lighter  or  brings  back  a  van- 
ished pleasure.  One  never  feels  better  for  com- 
plaining. It  only  makes  him  wretched.  One  bird 
in  a  cage  struggles  against  its  fate,  flies  against  the 
wire  walls,  and  beats  upon  them  in  eiforts  to  be  free 
till  its  breast  and  wings  are  all  bruised  and  bleed- 
ing. Another  bird  shut  in  accepts  the  restraint, 
perches  itself  upon  its  bar  and  sings.  Surely  the 
canary  is  wiser  than  the  starling. 

Then  we  would  get  far  along  toward  content- 
ment if  we  ceased  to  waste  time  dreaming  over 
imattainable  earthly  good.  Only  a  few  people  can 
be  great  or  rich ;  the  mass  must  always  remain  in 
ordinary  circumstances.  Suppose  all  our  forty 
millions  were  millionaires ;  who  could  be  found  to  do 
the  work  that  must  be  done  ?  Or  suppose  all  were 
great  poets.  Imagine  forty  million  people  in  one 
country  writing  poetry !  Who  would  write  the 
prose?  A  little  serious  reflection  will  show  that 
the  world  needs  only  a  very  few  great  and  conspic- 


240  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

nous  lives,  while  it  needs  millions  for  its  varied  in- 
dustries, its  plain  duties,  its  hard  toil.  And  yet  a 
large  amount  of  our  discontent  arises  from  our  envy 
of  those  who  have  what  we  have  not.  There  are 
many  who  lose  all  the  comfort  of  their  own  lives 
in  coveting  the  better  things  that  some  other  one 
possesses. 

There  are  several  considerations  that  ought  to 
modify  this  miserable  feeling  which  brings  so  much 
bitterness.  If  we  could  know  the  secret  history  of 
the  life  that  we  envy  for  its  splendor  and  prosperity, 
perhaps  we  would  not  exchange  for  it  our  lowlier 
life  with  its  homely  circumstances.  Certain  it  is 
that  contentment  is  not  so  apt  to  dwell  in  palaces  or 
on  thrones  as  in  the  homes  of  the  humble.  The 
tall  peaks  rise  nearer  the  skies,  but  the  winds  smite 
them  more  fiercely. 

Then  why  should  I  hide  my  one  talent  in  the 
earth  because  it  is  not  ten  ?  \Yhy  should  I  make 
ray  life  a  failure  in  the  place  allotted  to  me,  while 
T  sit  down  and  dream  over  unattainable  things? 
Why  should  I  miss  my  one  golden  opportunity, 
however  small,  while  I  envv  some  other  one  what 
seems  his  greater  opportunity?  Countless  people 
make  themselves  wretched  by  vainly  trying  to 
grasp  far-away  joys,  while  they  leave    untouched 


TAKING  CHEERFUL  VIEWS.  241 

and  despised  the  numberless  little  joys  and  bright 
bits  of  happiness  which  lie  close  to  their  hand. 
As  one  has  written,  ^^  Stretching  out  his  hand  to 
catch  the  stars,  man  forgets  the  flowers  at  his  feet, 
so  beautiful,  so  fragrant,  so  multitudinous  and  so 
various."  The  secret  of  happiness  lies  in  extract- 
ing'pleasure  from  the  things  wq  have,  while  we  en- 
ter no  mad,  vain  chase  after  impossible  fancies. 

Another  way  to  train  ourselves  to  cheerful  views 
of  life  is  resolutely  to  refuse  to  be  frightened  at 
shadows,  or  even  to  see  trouble  where  there  is  none. 
Half  or  more  of  the  things  that  most  worry  us 
have  no  existence  save  in  a  disordered  fancy. 
Many  things  that  in  the  dim  distance  look  like 
shapes  of  peril,  w^hen  we  draw  near  to  them  melt 
into  harmless  shadows,  or  even  change  into  forms  of 
friendliness.  Much  of  the  gloomy  tinge  that  many 
people  see  on  everything  is  caused  by  the  c.olor  of 
the  glasses  through  which  they  look.  We  sit  be- 
hind our  blue-glass  windows,  and  then  wonder  what 
makes  everything  blue.  The  greater  part  of  our 
discontent  is  caused  by  some  imaginary  trouble 
which  never  really  comes.  AYe  can  do  much  to- 
ward curing  ourselves  of  fretting  and  worrying  by 
refusing  to  be  fooled  by  a  foreboding  imagination. 

Then  we  need  to  learn  ever  to  make  the  best  of 

16 


242  wp:ek-1)AY  religion. 

things.  There  will  always  be  cloudy  days.  No 
one  can  live  without  meeting  discomforts,  disap- 
j)ointments  and  hard.shij)s.  No  wisdom,  no  indus- 
try of  ours  can  eliminate  from  our  experience  all 
that  is  disagreeable  or  painful.  But  shall  we  allow 
the  one  discordant  note  in  the  grand  symphony  to 
mar  for  us  all  the  noble  music?  Shall  we  pei'mit 
the  one  discomfort  in  our  home  to  cast  a  cloud  over 
all  its  pleasures  and  embitter  all  its  joys?  Shall 
we  not  seek  for  the  bright  side?  There  is  really 
sunshine  enough  in  the  darkest  day  to  make  any 
ordinary  mortal  happy  if  he  has  eyes  to  see  it.  It 
is  marvelous  what  a  trifling  thing  will  give  joy  to  a 
truly  grateful  heart.  Mungo  Park  in  the  bleak 
desert  found  the  greatest  delight  in  a  single  tuft  of 
moss  srrowinof  in  the  sand.  It  saved  him  from  de- 
spair  and  from  death  and  filled  his  soul  with  joy 
and  hope.  There  is  no  lot  in  life  so  dreary  that  it 
has  not  at  least  its  one  little  patch  of  beauty  or  its 
one  wee  flower  looking  up  out  of  the  dreariness, 
like  a  smile  of  God. 

Even  if  the  natural  eve  can  see  no  brio;htness  in 
the  cloud,  the  faith  of  the  Christian  knows  that 
there  is  sood  in  evervthins:  for  the  child  of  God. 
There  are  reasons,  no  doubt,  why  no  perfect  hap- 
piness can  be  found  in  this  world.     If  there  were 


TAKING  CHEEBFVL  VIEWS.  243 

no  thorns  in  our  pillow  here,  should  we  care  to  pil- 
low our  heads  on  the  bosom  of  divine  love  ?  Our 
Father  makes  the  nest  rough  to  drive  us  to  seek 
the  warmer,  softer  nest  prepared  for  us  in  his  own 
love. 

To  each  one  who  is  truly  in  Christ  and  who 
really  loves  God  there  is  a  promise  of  good  out 
of  all  things.  There  is  a  wondrous  alchemy  in  the 
divine  providence  that  out  of  the  commingling  of 
life's  strange  elements  always  produces  blessing. 
Thus  faith's  vision  sees  good  in  all  things,  how- 
ever dark  they  may  appear,  and  ill  in  nothing. 
"We  need  but  living  faith  in  God  to  enable  us  to 
take  a  cheerful  view  of  any  experience. 

There  is  another  purely  Christian  element  in  the 
culture  of  contentment  which  must  not  be  over- 
looked. The  more  the  heart  becomes  engaged  with 
God  and  its  affections  enchained  about  him,  the 
less  is  it  disturbed  by  the  little  roughnesses  and 
hardships  of  earth.  Things  that  fret  childhood 
have  no  power  to  break  the  peace  of  manhood. 
As  we  grow  into  higher  spiritual  manhood  and 
become  more  and  more  filled  with  Christ  we  shall 
rise  above  the  power  of  earth's  discontents.  We 
shall  be  happy  even  amid  trials  and  losses,  amid 
discomforts  and  disappointments,  because  our  life 


244  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

is  hid  with  Christ  in  God  and  we  have  meat  to  eat 
of  which  the  world  knows  not. 

Thus  w^e  may  train  ourselves  away  from  all 
gloomy  and  despondent  habits  and  experiences 
toward  cheerfulness  and  hope.  The  lesson,  well 
learned,  wall  repay  the  sorest  discipline.  It  will 
bring  some  new  pleasure  into  every  moment.  It 
will  paint  beauty  for  us  on  the  dreariest  desert.  It 
will  plant  flowers  for  us  along  every  steep  and 
ruo:2:ed  road.  It  will  brino^  music  for  us  out  of 
every  sighing  wind  and  wailing  storm.  It  will 
fill  the  darkest  night  with  starbeams.  It  will 
make  us  sunny-hearted  Christians,  pleasing  God 
and  blessing  the  world. 


XXV. 

« 

SOMETHING  ABOUT  AMUSEMENTS. 

"  Why  should  we  think  youth's  draught  of  joy, 
If  pure,  would  sparkle  less? 
Why  should  the  cup  the  sooner  cloy 
Which  God  hath  deigned  to  bless?" 

A  NY  man  is  a  cynic  who  condemns  all  amuse- 
^  raent  as  evil  and  inconsistent  with  the  truest 
Christian  life.  Such  teaching  might  have  been 
accepted  in  the  days  of  ascetic  sternness  and  rigor, 
when  piety  meant  contempt  for  all  the  joys  and 
pleasures  of  life,  when  devotees  thought  to  merit 
salvation  by  macerating  their  flesh,  by  breaking 
the  chords  of  natural  affection  and  by  spurning 
every  happy  experience  as  sinful.  Then  holiness 
was  moroseness,  self-inflicted  pain  was  a  sweet 
savor  to  God,  and  pleasure  was  guilt.  There  have 
also  been  phases  of  undoubted  piety  in  later  days 
in  which  similar  abnormal  developments  of  Chris- 
tian life  have  appeared  either  as  the  result  of  devo- 
tion to  some  stern  doctrine  or  produced  by  the  sore 

245 


246  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

stress  and  strain  of  existence  under  which  gladness 
died  away  and  life  became  hard  and  colorless  iu 
its  very  intensity. 

In  many  lives  misconceptions  of  the  true  ideal 
of  Christian  character  have  tended  to  illiberal 
views  regarding  pleasure.  The  loyal  and  earnest 
Christian  seeks  ever  to  imitate  Christ.  Our  con- 
ceptions of  his  character  and  life  reproduce  them- 
selves, therefore,  in  our  ethics  and  living.  A  som- 
bre Christ  makes  a  sombre  religion.  A  joyous  and 
joy-approving  Christ  produces  a  sunny  religion. 

It  has  been  said  from  time  immemorial  that 
Jesus  never  smiled.  The  prevalent  conception  of 
him  has  been  of  a  man  clothed  in  deep  sorrow, 
grief-laden,  tearful,  on  whose  face  no  ripple  of 
gladness  ever  played.  Wherever  this  conception 
has  prevailed  it  has  colored  the  lives  of  all  who 
sought  closely  to  follow  Christ.  The  result  has 
often  been  a  gloomy  religious  spirit  which  sought 
to  repress  its  natural  joy.  Mirth  has  seemed  irrev- 
erent and  all  amusements  have  been  regarded  as 
incompatible  wdth  sincere  piety. 

But  as  men  have  read  more  deeply  into  the  heart 
and  spirit  of  the  gospel  this  view  of  Christ  has 
been  found  to  be  superficial.  Amid  all  his  sor- 
rows, under  all  the  deep  shadows  that  hung  over 


SOMETHING  ABOUT  AMUSEMENTS.       247 

his  life,  Christ  carried  ever  a  heart  of  joy.  Exte- 
riorly his  life  was  hard  and  full  of  grief,  but  the 
hardness  did  not  crush  his  spirit.  He  did  not 
carry  his  griefs  in  his  face.  His  heart  was  like 
one  of  those  fresh-water  springs  that  burst  up  in 
the  sea,  ever  sweet  under  all  the  salt  bitterness. 
Wherever  he  moved  there  were  joy  and  gladness. 
Not  one  misanthropic  word  ever  fell  from  his  lips. 
He  did  not  frown  upon  the  children's  plays,  upon 
the  marriage  festivities,  or  upon  the  sweet  pleas- 
ures of  home.  A  benign  joyfulness  plays  over 
nearly  every  chapter  of  his  blessed  life.  The  true 
conception  of  Christ's  character  is  of  a  deeply 
serious  man,  earnest,  thoughtful,  living  an  intense 
life,  but  never  sombre,  gloomy  or  cynical,  the  deep 
earnestness  of  his  character  struck  through  with  a 
quiet  joy  and  the  calm,  steady  light  of  a  holy  peace. 
Wherever  this  conception  prevails  it  gives  its 
lovely  color,  its  sunny  brightness,  to  the  lives  of 
those  who  love  and  worship  Christ.  It  unbinds 
the  iron  fetters  of  ascetic  piety.  It  does  not  make 
men  boisterous.  It  tames  wild  nature.  It  re- 
presses excessive  levity.  It  makes  life  earnest  and 
serious,  charging  it  with  a  deep  consciousness  of 
responsibility.  But  it  does  not  restrain  the  inno- 
cent play  of  nature.     It  does  not  put  out  the  light 


248  WI'JJ'JK-DAY  RELIGION. 

of  joy.  Tliore  is  no  inconsistency  between  holi- 
ness and  laughter.  It  is  no  sin  to  smile.  Indeed, 
a  sombre  religion  is  unnatural.  Gloom  is  morbid- 
ness. Our  lives  should  be  sunny  and  songful. 
The  type  of  religion  in  the  New  Testament  is 
joyous  even  amid  sorrows.  There  is  not  a  tinge 
of  ascetic  severity  or  misanthropic  hardness  in  one 
of  the  saints  whose  pictures  are  preserved.  We 
hear  sono^s  in  the  nidit.  There  is  a  flower  that 
is  most  fragrant  when  the  sun  has  set,  and  in  the 
darkness  pours  its  richest  aroma  on  the  air.  So 
true  religion  grows  in  sweetness  as  shadows  deepen. 
He  misrepresents  Christianity  and  the  likeness  of 
the  Master  whose  piety  is  cold,  rigid,  colorless, 
joyless,  or  who  frowns  upon  innocent  gladness 
and  pure  pleasure. 

True  Christlike  piety  does  not,  therefore,  con- 
demn all  air.usements.  It  does  not  look  with  dis- 
approval upon  the  sports  of  the  children  or  call 
youth's  glad-hearted ness  sinful.  There  are  proper 
amusements  in  which  the  truest  Christian  may  in- 
dulge without  grieving  Christ,  ev^en  enjoying  his 
gracious  benediction  and  conscious  of  his  presence. 
It  is  not  my  intention  to  designate  specifically  what 
amusements  are  proper  for  a  Christian,  or  to  do 
more   than    lay   down   certain    general    j^i'i^^ciples 


S03IETHING  ABOUT  AMUSEMENTS.       249 

relating  to  the  subject.  This  is  all  that  the  Scrip- 
tures do,  leaving  the  responsibility  of  discrim- 
ination upon  the  individual  conscience. 

The  necessity  for  amusement  and  recreation  is 
written  in  our  nature.  No  man  or  woman  can  en- 
dure the  incessant  strain  of  hard  and  intense  life, 
day  after  day,  month  after  month,  without  some 
relaxation.  God  ordained  sleep,  the  Sabbath  and 
home  as  quiet  resting-places  iu  which  we  may 
pause  and  build  up  what  toil  and  care  and  struggle 
have  torn  down.  And  we  need,  not  rest  only,  but 
pleasure  also,  to  unbind  for  a  little  the  stiff  harness 
of  duty,  to  relax  the  strain  of  responsibility  and  to 
lubricate  the  joints  of  life.  All  Avork  and  no  play 
makes  older  people,  as  well  as  Jack,  dull.  One  that 
reads  Luther's  private  and  home  life,  and  sees  how 
he  could  laugh  and  how  he  played  with  his  chil- 
dren even  when  carrying  the  greatest  burdens, 
learns  where  he  found  much  of  the  inspiration  for 
his  gigantic  toils  and  stern  and  herculean  tasks. 

It  is  necessary  for  all  earnest  and  busy  people  to 
have  seasons  of  relaxation  and  diversion.  But  to 
what  extent  may  we  indulge?  Life  has  its  duties 
and  responsibilities,  and  these  we  must  never  neg- 
lect. If  we  must  give  account  for  every  idle* 
word  we  speak,  must  we  not  also  for  every  idle 


250  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

moment,  and  for  every  moment  wasted  in  pleasure? 
How  far,  then,  are  we  at  liberty  to  spend  time  in 
amusement  or  relaxation  ?  Clearly,  only  so  far  as 
it  is  needed  to  give  us  required  rest  and  to  fit  us 
for  the  most  efficient  work.  It  is  right  to  sleep ; 
but  when  we  give  more  time  to  sleep  than  is  neces- 
sary to  restore  tired  Nature,  to  "  knit  up  the  rav- 
eled sleeve  of  care,"  and  to  fit  us  for  duty,  we 
become  squanderers  of  precious  time.  The  same 
principle  must  be  applied  to  time  spent  in  any  kind 
of  relaxing  pleasure  however  innocent.  Life  is  not 
play.  It  is  very  serious.  It  has  its  responsibilities 
and  duties,  which  press  at  every  point  and  fill  every 
day  and  hour.  He  who  would  succeed  in  the  excit- 
ing life  of  to-day  cannot  afford  to  lose  a  moment. 
Every  hour  must  be  made  to  count.  And  he  who 
would  fill  up  the  measure  of  responsibility  implied 
in  consecration  to  God  must  redeem  the  time. 
Amusements  are  lawful,  therefore,  only  so  far  as 
they  are  necessary  to  reinvigorate  life's  wasted  en- 
ergies, or  to  put  fresh  buoyancy  and  elasticity  into 
powers  wearied  or  worn  by  the  strain  of  physical 
or  mental  toil. 

Amusement  is  not  an  end,  but  a  means.  It  is 
not  life's  object,  but  a  help  on  the  way.  It  is  not 
the  goal,  but  the  cool  bower  or  the  bubbling  spring 


SOMETHING  ABOUT  AMUSEMENTS,       251 

on  the  stiff,  steep  mountain-side.  This  distinction  is 
vital,  and  must  not  be  overlooked  by  those  who 
would  so  live  as  to  please  God. 

Then,  as  to  the  kind  of  amusements  in  which  we 
may  lawfully  engage,  there  are  several  equally  clear 
principles  to  be  observed.  At  the  very  outset, 
whatever  is  in  itself  sinful  carries  its  own  condem- 
nation on  its  face.  A  Christian  is  never  to  indulge 
in  sin.  No  necessity  of  relaxation  can  ever  give 
license  to  anything  that  contravenes  the  pure  morals 
of  the  gospel.  A  Christian  is  never  off  duty,  is 
never  an}i:hing  but  a  Christian.  No  combination 
of  circumstances  can  make  him  blameless  in  vio- 
lating the  principles  and  precepts  of  Christianity. 
These  are  just  as  binding  on  Tuesday  or  Thursday 
evening  as  on  the  Sabbath.  Amusements,  as  well 
as  books,  speech,  business  and  all  conduct,  must  be 
brought  to  the  bar  of  the  highest  Christian  morality. 

Religion  and  common  life  are  not  two  different 
and  distinct  things.  We  may  not  cut  our  existence 
in  two  parts  and  say,  "  Over  this  Christ  shall  rule, 
but  over  that  he  shall  have  no  control.'^  True  re- 
ligion knows  no  difference  between  Sabbath  and 
Monday,  so  far  as  the  ethics  of  life  are  concerned. 
Each  day  brings  its  own  specific  duties,  but  there 
are  not  moral  precepts  for  the  one  which  are  sus- 


252  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

pended  wlien  its  sun  sets  that  for  six  days  a  mit- 
igated or  less  holy  law  may  prevail.  Holiness  is  to 
be  the  Christian's  dress  all  the  week  throii<rh  in 
every  hour's  conduct.  All  pleasures  and  amuse- 
ments must  be  tested  by  the  unvarying  rule  of  right. 
The  standard  of  perfect  purity  cannot  be  lowered. 

It  is  the  fashion  to  laugh  at  criticisms  upon  art 
and  certain  forms  of  amusement,  made  on  moral 
grounds.  But  for  a  Christian  there  is  nothing 
which  must  not  be  tested  by  the  severest  rules  of 
purity.  All  immodest  exhibitions,  all  impropri- 
eties of  attitude  which  would  in  ordinary  associa- 
tions be  condemned,  all  forms  of  pleasure  in  which 
lurks  even  the  suggestion  of  impurity,  must  by 
this  principle  be  excluded  from  the  class  of  amuse- 
ments proper  for  one  who  would  closely  follow 
Christ. 

A  further  test  which  seems  just  and  reasonable 
is  a  reference  to  the  spirit  of  Christ's  own  life. 
This  is  to  be  the  Christian's  guidance  in  all  things. 
His  earthly  life  is  the  copy  set  for  us.  It  is  a  safe 
and  true  thing  to  test  every  separate  act  and  to  as- 
certain our  duty  in  every  uncertain  moment  by 
asking  what  Christ  would  do  if  he  were  in  our 
place.  All  life  is  following  him.  Where  he  will 
not  lead  us  we  cannot  follow.     As  we  have  seen,  he 


SOMETHING  ABOUT  AMUSEMENTS.      253 

does  not  frown  upon  pure  and  innocent  pleasures. 
He  went  himself,  when  he  was  on  the  earth,  to 
places  of  enjoyment  and  festivity.  He  attended 
a  marriage-feast  and  contributed  to  the  gladness  of 
the  guests.  He  accepted  invitations  to  family  feasts. 
There  is  not  a  trace  of  asceticism  in  all  the  story 
of  his  life.  And  he  would  do  the  same  if  he  were 
here  now.  Pleasures  that  are  pure,  innocent  and 
helpful,  or  that  contribute  to  the  joy*and  good  of 
others,  he  would  enjoy.  And  what  he  would  do 
if  he  were  in  our  place,  we,  as  his  followers,  may 
do.  But  there  are  amusements  in  which  we  may 
be  sure  he  would  not  indulge.  A  tender  spiritual 
instinct  will  readily  discriminate  between  those  in 
which  he  would  and  those  in  which  he  would  not 
engage.  This  seems  a  reasonable  and  legitimate 
test  for  us,  his  followers. 

Then  there  is  another  test.  The  one  great  bus- 
iness of  life  is  character-building.  The  aspiration 
of  every  earnest  Christian  is  to  grow  every  day  in 
holiness  and  spirituality.  This  motive  is  to  rule 
all  life.  Our  business,  our  associations,  our  friend- 
ships, are  to  be  chosen  with  reference  to  this  one 
object.  Anything  that  tarnishes  the  lustre  of  our 
spirituality,  or  hinders  the  development  of  our 
Christian  graces,  or  breaks  the  inner  peace  of  our 


254  WEEK-DA  Y  RELIOION. 

hearts,  or  interferes  with  our  communion  with  God, 
is  harmful  and  must  be  excluded  from  among  the 
circumstances  of  our  lives. 

Tlie  question  as  to  what  amusements  are  proper 
or  what  improper  for  us,  each  one  must  answer  for 
himself.  Questions  continually  asked  of  pastors 
and  recognized  Christian  guides  are  such  as  these : 
"Is  it  right  for  a  Christian  to  dance?  Or  may 
he  attend  th§  theatre  or  opera  or  circus,  or  play 
cards?"  The  true  way  to  answer  such  questions 
is  by  an  honest  appeal  to  experience.  What  is 
the  influence  of  such  amusements  on  our  spiritual 
life  and  enjoyment?  Is  prayer  as  sweet,  as  wel- 
come, as  helpful,  afterw^ard?  Do  we  return  to  it 
from  the  hours  passed  in  such  pleasures  with  the 
same  eagerness,  the  same  desire,  as  before  ?  Do  we 
find  our  communion  with  God  as  sweet,  as  restful, 
as  conscious?  Do  we  retain  the  warmth  and  s:low 
of  heart  that  we  felt  before?  Or  do  our  amuse- 
ments mar  our  peace  and  interrupt  our  enjoyment 
of  the  divine  presence  ?  Do  they  unfit  us  for  de- 
votion, and  do  we  find  our  hearts  made  cold  and 
distracted  by  them  ?  Do  they  chill  our  ardor  in 
Christian  work?  At  what  times  in  our  life  do 
we  care  most  for  such  pleasures  ?  Is  it  when  our 
religious  life  is  at  its  best,  when  love  is  most  fer- 


SOMETHING  ABOUT  AMUSEMENTS.     255 

vent  and  zeal  most  earnest?  Does  the  young 
Christian,  in  the  warmth  and  glow  of  his  first 
love,  care  for  these  things?  Do  they,  in  our  ex- 
perience, promote  our  spirituality  and  fit  us  for 
hicrher  usefulness? 

This  is  the  experimental  test.  All  the  circum- 
stances about  us  are  educating  influences,  and 
whatever  is  injurious  to  piety,  whatever  lowers 
character,  is  not  proper  or  right  as  a  means  of 
enjoyment. 

True  and  rational  amusements  are  a  great  force 
in  educating  and  building  character.  All  pure 
joy  is  helpful.  All  pure  art  leaves  its  touch  of 
beauty.  Pure  music  sings  itself  into  our  hearts, 
and  becomes  thenceforward  and  for  ever  a  new 
element  of  power  in  our  life.  Laughter  makes 
life  sunnier.  It  sweeps  the  clouds  from  the  sky, 
shakes  off  many  a  care,  smooths  out  many  a 
wrinkle  and  dries  many  a  tear.  Pure  pleasure 
sweetens  many  a  bitter  heart-fountain,  drives  away 
many  a  gloomy  thought  and  many  a  hobgoblin 
shape  of  imagined  terror,  and  saves  many  a  dark- 
ened spirit  from  despair.  "  A  m.erry  heart  doeth 
good  like  a  medicine."  Not  the  least  highly-gift- 
ed men  are  those  to  whom  God  has  imparted  the 
talent  of  humor  that  they  may  make  others  laugh. 


25G  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

Sanctified  wit  lias  a  blessed  mission.  Life  is  so 
hard,  so  stern,  with  so  many  burdens  and  strug- 
gles, that  there  is  need  for  all  the  bright  words  we 
can  speak.  The  most  wretched  people  in  the  world 
are  those  who  go  about  in  sackcloth,  carrying  all 
their  griefs  in  their  faces  and  casting  shadows 
everywhere.  -  Every  Christian  should  be  a  hap- 
piness-maker. We  need  a  thousand  times  more 
joy  in  our  lives  than  most  of  us  get.  We  w^ould 
be  better  men  and  w^omen  if  we  were  happier. 
Like  "the  man  who  hath  no  music  in  his  soul," 
he  who  has  no  sense  of  gladness  and  gives  forth  no 
pleasure  is  "  fit  for  treason,  stratagems  and  spoils," 
and  is  not  worthv  to  be  trusted. 

We  need,  most  of  us,  to  plan  more  pleasures, 
especially  more  home  pleasures.  Busy  men  need 
them,  w'eary,  worried  women  need  them,  glad- 
hearted  children  need  them.  There  are  amuse- 
ments and  relaxations  which  do  not  tarnish  the 
soul's  purity  or  chill  the  ardor  of  devotion  or 
break  our  fellowship  with  heaven,  but  which  re- 
fine, exalt,  purify,  enlarge  and  enrich  life. 

Much  harm  has  been  done  in  the  past  by  the 
indiscriminate  condemnation  of  amusements,  while 
nothing  has  been  provided  to  take  the  place  of 
those  which  are  harmful.     The  absolute  necessity 


SOMETHING  ABOUT  A3IUSEMENTS.      257 

of  relaxation  of  some  kind  must  be  kept  in  mind. 
God  has  made  us  needins;  mirth.  Amusement 
men  will  have ;  and  in  this,  as  in  all  other  reforms, 
the  truest  and  wisest  method  is  not  to  condemn 
and  cut  off,  leaving  nothing,  but  to  provide  true 
pleasures  and  substitute  them,  and  let  these  win 
hearts  from  the  impure  and  the  hurtful. 

It  was  a  maxim  of  Napoleon's,  "  To  replace  is 
to  conquer.^'  Let  Christian  parents  and  Chris- 
tian people  in  a  community  provide  healthful  and 
profitable  entertainments  for  the  young,  and  these 
will  gradually  and  insensibly  uproot  and  replace 
those  which  are  pernicious  and  injurious.  There 
is  no  other  true  and  effective  way.  This  is  as  much 
the  duty  of  Christian  leaders  as  to  preach  sermons 
and  conduct  Sabbath-schools.  Otherwise,  while 
c:ie  day's  religious  services  bring  hel])  and  purity 
to  the  lives  of  the  people  and  the  children,  six 
days'  worldly  pleasures  will  more  than  undo  all 
the  good.  Let  Christian  men  and  women  quietly 
institute  in  every  community  such  means  of  en- 
joyment as  shall  combine  pleasure  and  profit,  and 

thus  the  harmful  shall  be  replaced. 
17 


XXVI. 

ON  THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDS. 

Tj^EW  objects  are  of  such  vital  importance  to 
young  people  as  the  character  of  their  early 
friends.  Tourists  among  the  Alps  climb  the 
mountains  tied  togetlier  with  ropes  that  they  may 
help  each  other.  But  sometimes  one  falls  and 
drags  the  others  down  with  him.  So  the  friends 
to  whom  the  young  attach  themselves  will  either 
help  them  upward  to  fairer  beauty  and  sublimer 
excellence  or  drag  them  down  to  blemished  char- 
acter, and  mayhap  to  sullied  purity. 

A  friend  should  be  one  whom  we  can  trust  per- 
fectly. It  is  the  truest  test  of  friendship  that  you 
can  utter  the  most  inviolable  confidences,  living  as 
it  were  a  transparent  life  in  the  presence  of  your 
friend  without  dreading  for  a  moment  that  he  will 
betray  or  misuse  the  privacies  you  have  unveiled 
to  him.  Such  confidence  is  impossible  without 
a  background  of  integrity  and  sterling  character. 

258 


ON  THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDS.  259 

If  you  have  the  least  doubt  of  a  man's  truth  and 
honor,  if  you  believe  him  capable  of  being  dis- 
loyal even  in  thought,  you  cannot  take  him  into 
the  sacred  relation  of  friendship.  The  familiar 
story  of  Alexander  and  his  physician  well  illus- 
trates the  trust  that  friendship  should  be  able  to 
give.  The  king  was  sick,  and  received  a  note  tell- 
ing him  that  his  physician  intended  to  give  him 
poison  under  the  guise  of  medicine.  He  read  the 
note  and  put  it  under  his  pillow,  and  when  the 
physician  came  in  he  took  the  proffered  cup,  and, 
looking  him  calmly  in  the  face,  drank  the  draught. 
He  then  drew  out  the  note  and  gave  it  to  his 
friend.  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  of  any  trust 
more  perfect  than  this.  Such  confidence  could 
never  be  exercised  in  one  of  whose  integrity  we 
could  have  the  faintest  suspicion.  The  first  essen- 
tial qualification  in  a  friend  is,  therefore,  a  soul 
of  unblemished  truth. 

Then  a  friend  must  be  one  who  will  not  weary 
of  us  when  he  discovers  the  faults  and  imperfec- 
tions that  are  in  us.  We  meet  people  in  society, 
and  they  see  us  in  the  glow  of  distance  which  lends 
enchantment,  concealing  our  unlovely  qualities  or 
spreading  over  them  a  deceptive  coloring.  Some 
faces  which  look  very  attractive  when  veiled  dis- 


260  WEEKDAY  RELIGION. 

close  man};  blemishes  when  seen  uncovered.  There 
are  few  characters  that  do  not  reveal  uncomely  traits 
on  intimate  acquaintance  that  were  not  apparent  in 
the  ordinary  intercourse  of  social  life.  We  walk 
before  our  closest  friends  in  a  sort  of  moral  desha- 
billey  and  they  oftentimes  see  much  silliness,  pride 
and  vanity  under  the  thin  veneer  of  our  society 
manners.  Even  in  the  very  best  of  us  there  are 
unlovely  features  which  close  intimacy  discloses. 
In  choosing  friends  we  want  those  who  will  not  be 
driven  away  when  they  learn  our  faults.  True 
friendship  must  be  proof  against  all  such  discov- 
eries. It  must  take  us  for  better  or  for  worse. 
\ye  do  not  want  friends  in  whose  presence  we  must 
wear  a  mask  of  reserve,  but  those  who,  seeing  and 
knowing  us  as  we  are,  shall  love  us  in  spite  of  the 
blemishes,  seeking  wisely,  though  not  officiously 
or  offensively,  the  removal  of  our  faults  and  the 
elevation  of  our  character.  Nothing  but  great- 
heartedness  is  sufficient  for  this  essential  want. 

Then  we  should  choose  friends  who  will  be  help- 
ful to  us.  Every  friendship  leaves  its  impression 
upon  us.  There  are  touches  that  blight,  and  there 
are  touches  that  are  benedictions.  A  voun<]^  and 
innocent  heart  is  so  delicate  in  its  beauty  that  a 
breath  of  evil  leaves  it  sullied.     We  cannot  afford 


ON  THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDS.  26 

to  take  into  our  life,  even  for  a  little  time,  an  im- 
pure companionship.  It  will  leave  a  memory  thai 
will  give  pain  even  in  the  holiest  after  years. 

There  is  embraced  in  the  thought  of  friendship 
the  element  of  mutual  helpfulness.  There  grows 
up  between  two  friends  a  sort  of  holy  communism. 
What  one  has  the  other  must  share,  whether  it  be 
sorrow  or  joy.  Whatever  experience  is  passing 
over  the  chords  of  one  heart  is  echoed  also  from 
the  other.  When  there  is  a  cup  of  gladness,  two 
hearts  drink  of  it.  When  there  is  a  burden,  there 
are  two  shoulders  under  it.  Friendship  knows  no 
limit  in  giving.  Its  joy  is  not  in  receiving,  but  in 
imparting.  It  is  not,  therefore,  exacting  in  its  de- 
mands or  quick  to  complain  of  seeming  neglect. 
We  want  unselfish  friends  who  shall  care  for  us  for 
our  own  sake.  We  want  those  who  will  never  tire 
of  bearing  our  burdens.  We  may  have  sorrow  and 
adversity.  We  may  become  a  great  care  in  the  fu- 
ture, unable  to  give  anything  in  return  save  grateful 
love.  He  who  becomes  our  friend  takes  u23on  him- 
self many  possibilities  of  sacrifice  and  unselfish 
service.  It  may  cost  him  much.  He  must  be  one 
who  will  not  grow  weary  of  these  burdens  should 
they  be  imposed.  He  must  be  ready  to  share  our 
infirmities  and  not  tire  of  helping  us. 


2G2  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

There  are  friendships  that  do  this.  Holiest  of 
tlieni  all  is  the  parent's.  I  have  seen  a  child  grow- 
ing up  deformed  or  blind  or  deaf,  or  mayhap  weak- 
minded,  so  as  to  be  always  a  burden  and  a  care, 
never  a  pride  or  a  joy.  And  yet  through  the 
years  the  parental  hearts  clung  to  it  with  most 
tender  affection,  never  wearying  of  the  burden,  min- 
istering with  almost  divine  patience  and  gentleness 
all  the  while.  Then  I  have  seen  invalids  who 
could  never  be  anything  but  invalids,  to  be  toiled 
for  and  to  be  watched  over  year  after  year,  to  be 
carried  from  room  to  room  and  up  and  down  stairs 
like  helpless  infants.  There  was  not  a  shadow  of 
a  hope  that  they  could  ever  repay  the  toil  they  cost, 
or  even  lighten  the  burden  they  exacted  from  those 
who  loved  them.  Even  outside  of  home  and 
family  ties  I  have  seen  friendships  that  never 
faltered  under  burdens  that  were  heavy  and  could 
never  grow  less.  We  know  not  what  may  befall 
us  in  the  undisclosed  years,  and  we  want  friends 
who  will  never  tire  of  us  should  even  the  worst 
come.  We  want  friends  in  prosperity  and  wealth 
who  will  cleave  to  us  even  more  loyally  if  misfor- 
tune and  poverty  should  strip  us  bare.  Such 
friends  are  rare.  Only  purest  unselfishness  is  equal 
to  such  tests. 


ON  THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDS.  263 

Then,  in  choosing  friends,  we  should  take  those 
only  with  whom  we  can  hope  to  walk  beyond 
death.  Why  should  we  form  close  and  tender 
attachments  here  to  be  severed  for  ever  at  death  ? 
Why  should  we  be  unequally  yoked  with  unbe- 
lievers? Friendship  reaches  its  highest,  truest 
meaning  only  when  it  knits  two  lives  together  at 
every  point — not  in  the  lower  nature  alone,  but  in 
the  higher  as  well,  and  with  reference  to  the  eternal 
future.  We  should  seek  for  our  close  friends, 
therefore,  only  those  who  are  God's  children. 
Then  the  web  which  we  weave  in  our  love-years 
shall  never  be  rent  or  torn. 

Having  chosen  a  few  such  friends,  we  should 
never  let  them  go  out  of  our  lives  if  we  can  by 
any  possibility  retain  them.  Friendship  is  too  rare 
and  sacred  a  treasure  lightly  to  be  thrown  away. 
And  yet  many  people  are  not  careful  to  retain  their 
friends.  Some  lose  them  through  inattention,  fail- 
ing to  maintain  those  little  amenities,  courtesies  and 
kindnesses  which  cost  so  little,  and  yet  are  hooks  of 
steel  to  grapple  and  hold  our  friends.  Some  drop 
old  friends  for  new  ones.  Some  take  offence  easily 
at  imagined  slights  or  neglects,  and  ruthlessly  cut 
the  most  sacred  ties.  Some  become  impatient  of 
little   faults,   and   discard   even  truest    friendshij)s. 


264  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

Some  arc  inca])al)le  of  any  dcop  or  permanent  af- 
fection, and  fly  from  friendship  to  fricndsliip  like 
restless  birds  from  bough  to  bough,  making  a  nest 
for  their  hearts  in  none.  Then  beautiful  friendships 
are  often  destroyed,  not  by  any  sharp,  sudden  quar- 
rel, but  by  slowly  and  imperceptibly  drifting  apart 
until  there  is  a  great  chasm  between  two  lives  that 
once  were  woven  sacredly  together. 

There  are  a  great  many  ways  of  losing  friends. 
But  when  we  have  once  taken  true  souls  into  the 
grasp  of  our  hearts,  we  should  cherish  them  as 
rarest  jewels.  There  is  no  wealth  in  the  world  like 
a  noble  friendship,  and  nothing  should  induce  us  to 
sacrifice  such  a  treasure.  If  slights  are  given,  let 
them  be  overlooked.  If  misunderstandings  arise, 
let  them  quickly  be  set  right.  Let  not  pride  or 
fiery  temper  or  cold  selfishness  disdainfully  toss 
away  a  friendship  for  any  trivial  cause.  It  is  not 
hard  to  lose  a  friend,  but  the  loss  is  utterly  irrep- 
arable. 

Let  it  never  be  overlooked  that  we  as  friends 
must  stand  ready  to  be  and  to  do  all  that  we  expect 
our  friends  to  be  and  to  do.  If  we  set  a  high 
standard  for  them,  that  standard  must  be  ours  also. 
It  will  not  do  to  give  pebbles  and  ask  diamonds  in 
return. 


XXVII. 

THE  ETHICS  OF  HOME-DECORATION. 

"Each  man's  chimney  is  his  golden  milestone, 
Is  the  central  point  from  which  he  measures 
Every  distance 

Tlirough  the  gateways  of  the  world  around  him; 
In  his  farthest  wanderings  still  he  sees  it, 
Hears  the  talking  flame,  the  answering  night-wind, 
As  he  heard  them 
When  he  sat  with  those  who  were,  but  are  not." 

Longfellow. 

r  1 1HIS  is  not  aD  essay  on  household  taste  or 
-^  on  the  art  principles  which  relate  to  the 
adornment  of  homes,  but  there  is  an  ethical  side 
to  this  subject  on  which  I  have  a  suggestion  or 
two  to  offer. 

It  is  trite  to  say  that  every  home  influence  works 
itself  into  the  heart  of  childhood,  and  then  works 
itself  out  again  in  the  subsequent  development  of 
the  character.  None  of  us  know  how  much  our 
homes  have  to  do  with  our  lives.  When  one's 
childhood  home  has  been  true  and  tender  its  mem- 

265 


266  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

ories  can  never  be  effaced.  Its  voices  of  love  and 
prayer  and  song  come  back  like  angels'  wliisjiers, 
like  melodies  from  some  far-away  island  in  the 
sea,  when  the  lips  that  first  breathed  them  have 
long  been  silent  in  the  grave.  No  one  can  ever 
get  away  from  the  influence  of  his  early  home. 
Good  or  bad,  it  clings  through  life.  Homes  are 
the  real  schools  and  universities  in  which  men  and 
women  are  trained,  and  fathers  and  mothers  are 
the  real  teachers  and  makers  of  life.  The  poet's 
song  is  but  the  sweetness  of  a  mother's  love  flow- 
ing out  in  rhythmic  measure  through  her  child's 
life.  The  lovely  things  men  build  in  their  days 
of  strength  are  but  the  reproductions  of  the  lovely 
thoughts  that  were  whispered  in  their  hearts  in  the 
days  of  tender  youth.  The  artist's  picture  is  but 
a  touch  of  a  mother's  beauty  wrought  out  on  the 
canvas.  A  grand  manhood  or  womanhood  is  only 
the  home  teachings  and  prayers  woven  into  life 
and  form. 

It  is  proven  that  even  the  natural  scenery  in 
which  a  child  is  reared  has  much  to  do  with  the 
tone  and  hue  of  its  future  character.  Those  who  are 
cradled  among;  the  2;rand  mountains  or  bv  the  shore 
of  the  majestic  sea  carry  into  their  mature  years 
the  mystic  influence  of  those  scenes ;  and  there  is 


THE  ETHICS  OF  HOME-DECORATION.     267 

no  feature  of  a  home  itself  or  of  its  scenery  and 
surroundings  that  does  not  print  itself  on  infancy's 
sensitive  heart  like  the  images  on  the  photog- 
rapher's prepared  plate,  to  be  brought  out  again 
in  the  future  character. 

This  truth  is  not  properly  appreciated.  The 
educating  eflPect  of  home-decoration  has  not  re- 
ceived that  attention  which  it  deserves,  nor  has  its 
moral  value  come  into  general  and  thoughtful  con- 
sideration. The  subject  has  been  discussed  from 
the  view-point  of  art,  but  not  from  that  of  char- 
acter culture.  Much  has  been  said  and  written 
of  books,  good  and  bad,  vulgar  and  refining,  and 
of  the  importance  of  putting  such  only  as  are  pure 
and  elevating  into  the  hands  of  the  young.  In 
like  manner,  the  importance  of  their  early  com- 
panionship has  received  much  attention.  But  the 
moral  effect  of  home  adornment  needs  to  be  con- 
sidered just  as  thoughtfully  and  carefully  as  that 
of  either  books  or  associations. 

It  is  important  that  in  the  education  and  train- 
ino;  of  children  we  throw  around  their  sensitive 
lives  all  of  beauty,  purity  and  inspiration  that  we 
can.  The  sites  of  our  homes  should  be  selected 
with  reference  to  this.  In  this  regard  the  country 
has   usually  wonderful   advantages   over  the  city. 


268  WEEK-DA  Y  RELIGION. 

Its  lovely  natural  scenery  is  a  gallery  hung  with 
the  rarest  beauties,  and  yet  there  are  many  build- 
ers of  homes  N\'ho  seem  never  to  give  a  thought  to 
this.  They  choose  sites  for  some  temporary  con- 
venience or  on  the  ground  of  inexpensiveness  in 
the  midst  of  unlovely,  or  even  repulsive,  surround- 
ings, when  at  a  little  additional  cost  they  could 
have  placed  their  homes  in  the  midst  of  pictu- 
resque scenery  and  refining  surroundings.  Apart 
altogether  from  the  question  of  taste,  the  moral 
influence  of  the  scenery  on  which  the  doors  and 
windows  open  is  of  immeasurably  more  value  than 
any  difference  in  money  cost.  There  is  no  refining 
and  purifying  power  like  that  of  true  beauty. 

Then  the  ornamentation  of  the  grounds  about 
a  home  furnishes  another  opportunity  not  only  for 
the  display  of  taste,  but  for  the  choice  of  import- 
ant educating  influences.  These  may  be  permitted 
to  remain  without  any  adornment  whatever,  open 
to  passing  hoof,  trodden  down,  void  of  any  trace 
of  beauty.  Former  improvements  may  be  suffered 
to  fall  into  decay,  leaving  broken  gates,  tottering 
fences,  unpainted  buildings,  grounds  overgrown 
with  weeds,  with  not  a  lovely  walk  or  an  inch  of 
green  grass,  and  not  a  tree  or  shrub,  not  a  vine  or 
flower.     Or  they  may  be  made  tasteful  and  beau- 


THE  ETHICS  OF  HOME-DECORATION.     269 

tiful,  with  neatly-painted  palings,  gates  in  order, 
bright  green  lawn,  shade-trees,  pleasant  walks, 
lovely  plants  and  beds  of  flowers.  In  the  mere 
education  of  taste  the  influence  of  these  different 
surroundings  is  obvious,  but  there  is  a  moral  effect 
that  is  vastly  more  important.  Holiness  and 
beauty  lie  very  close  together,  and  the  influence 
of  all  repulsiveness  is  toward  evil. 

The  moral  effect  of  interior  home-decoration  is 
still  greater.  We  should  make  the  rooms  in  which 
our  children  sleep  and  play  and  live  just  as  bright 
and  lovely  as  our  means,  directed  by  wisest  skill 
and  purest  taste,  can  make  them ;  and  not  only 
should  the  adornments  and  decorations  be  pleasing 
to  the  eye,  but  it  is  of  importance  that  we  give  the 
most  careful  heed  to  their  moral  character.  There 
are  many  pictures  found  in  even  christian  homes 
whose  influence  is  toward  impurity.  There  are 
other  pictures  whose  influence  is  toward  gloom, 
and  there  are  those  again  whose  chaste  beauty, 
bright  cheerfulness  and  rich  suggestiveness  make 
them  continual  inspirations  toward  refinement  and 
moral  excellence.  They  frame  themselves  into 
young  hearts  and  become  a  joy  and  comfort  for 
ever. 

A  young  artist  once  asked  a  great  painter  for 


270  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

some  word  of  advice  wbicli  might  liclp  him  in  all 
his  after-life.  Having  noticed  on  the  walls  of  the 
young  man's  rooms  some  rough  and  coarse  sketches, 
he  advised  him,  as  a  young  man  desirous  of  rising 
in  his  profession,  to  remove  these,  and  never  to 
allow  his  eye  to  become  familiar  with  any  but  the 
highest  forms  of  art.  If  he  could  not  afford  to 
buy  good  oil  paintings  of  the  first  class,  he  should 
either  get  good  engravings  of  great  pictures  or 
have  nothing  at  all  upon  his  walls.  If  he  per- 
mitted himself  to  become  familiar  with  anything 
in  art  that  was  vulgar  in  conception,  however  per- 
fect in  execution,  his  taste  would  insensibly  become 
depraved  ;  whereas,  if  he  would  habituate  his  eye 
to  look  only  on  that  which  was  pure  and  grand  or 
refined  and  lovely,  his  taste  would  insensibly  be- 
come elevated. 

This  advice  is  of  perfectly  pertinent  application 
to  the  use  of  pictures  and  statuary  in  home-dec- 
oration. Children  from  their  earliest  years  are 
naturally  fond  of  pictures.  Their  eyes  rest  much 
upon  them,  and  insensibly  they  have  much  to  do 
not  only  with  the  formation  of  their  taste,  but  also 
in  giving  moral  tone  and  color  to  their  minds. 
Familiarity  with  vulgarity  and  coarseness  will 
inevitably   deprave,  and    looking   upon  pure   and 


THE  ETHICS  OF  HOME-DECORATION.     271 

beautiful  things  will  imperceptibly,  yet  surely,  re- 
fine, elevate  and  inspire. 

Lovely  pictures  in  a  home  have  a  wondrous  and 
subtle  power  in  the  education  and  refining  of  child- 
life.  They  may  be  but  wood-cuts  or  chromos  or 
steel  engravings,  but  let  them  be  chaste  and  pure. 
Let  us  hang  nothing  in  our  parlors  or  play-rooms 
or  bedchambers  or  dining-rooms  that  would  bring 
a  blush  to  the  sweetest  modesty  or  start  a  su2:2:estion 
of  anything  indelicate  in  any  beholder's  mind. 
Every  picture,  engraving  or  print  will  touch  itself 
into  the  soul  of  each  child  reared  in  the  home. 
That  which  is  impure  or  gross  will  leave  a  stain, 
and  that  which  is  refined  and  lovely  ^vill  become  a 
sweetening  memory  for  ever. 

The  whole  question  of  what  is  modest  and  pure 
in  art  is  one  that  few  Christian  moralists  have  had 
the  courage  to  meet.  It  is  the  custom  to  character- 
ize as  "  prudish  ^^  any  criticism  based  upon  ethical 
grounds,  or  any  judgment  of  a  picture  or  a  statue 
which  considers  its  moral  influence.  But  as  Christ- 
ians we  are  bound  to  look  at  everything  from  a 
moral  point  of  view.  A  painting  may  rank  very 
high  as  a  work  of  art,  both  in  conception  and  ex- 
ecution, and  yet  its  influence  be  toward  impurity. 
If  this  is  the  case,  it  is  not  fit  to  hang  on  the  wall 


272  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

of  any  home.  In  the  adorn incnt  of  our  homes,  so 
flir  as  works  of  art  are  concerned,  Christian  people 
cannot  properly  overlook  this  j)rinciplc. 

The  display  of  undraped  figures  on  canvas  must 
necessarily  exert  a  harmful  influence,  especially 
upon  the  minds  of  the  young.  The  religion  of 
Christ  is  chaste,  and  condemns  everything  in  which 
lurks  even  the  faintest  suggestion  of  impurity. 
Whatever,  then,  may  be  the  merits  of  pictures  or 
statuary  as  works  of  art,  true  Christian  refinement 
must  fix  its  standard  along  the  line  of  perfect  pu- 
rity. The  same  principles  that  we  apply  to  books, 
to  speech  and  to  behavior  we  must  apply  un- 
flinchingly to  the  selection  of  pictures  for  the  walls 
of  our  homes. 

I  know  that  this  principle  is  denied.  Men  tell 
us  that  it  is  only  a  prurient  imagination  that  sees 
impurity  on  canvas  or  in  marble.  They  call  it 
prudery  and  quote  the  motto,  "  Evil  to  him  who 
evil  thinks,''  or  the  Scripture  aphorism,  "Unto 
the  pure  all  things  are  pure."  They  taunt  u"5,  too, 
with  ignorance  of  high  and  true  art,  and  begin  to 
chatter  learnedly  about  nature.  The  ability  to  be 
shocked,  they  say,  by  any  representation  of  simple 
nature  is  an  evidence  of  an  evil  imagination.  Such 
things  have  been  said  so  often,  and  modesty  has 


THE  ETHICS  OF  HOME-DECOBATION.     273 

been  so  much  laughed  at,  that  pure  and  delicate- 
souled  people  do  not  dare  to  seem  to  be  shocked ; 
they  think  thej  ought  to  be  able  to  look  at  any- 
thing in  art.  The  figures  introduced  in  parlors  and 
drawing-rooms  wax  more  and  more  wanton  as  the 
petrified  impurity  of  ancient  heathenism  is  dug  up 
and  brought  to  fill  the  niches  of  a  pure  and  chaste 
Christianity.  How  will  this  affect  the  purity  of 
our  households? 

Ignoring  utterly  the  charge  of  prurience  and 
over-delicacy,  pleading  for  the  utmost  purity  in  the 
influence  of  the  homes  in  which  our  children  are 
growing  up,  I.  must  reassert  the  principle  that 
nothing  which  would  be  indecent  in  actual  life  can 
be  proper  in  art.  No  sophistry  can  make  anything 
else  out  of  the  laws  of  perfect  purity  which  relig- 
ion inculcates.  The  least  indelicacy  or  wantonness 
in  any  picture  or  statue  in  a  home  cannot  but  ex- 
ert a  subtle  influence  for  evil  over  the  minds  and 
hearts  of  the  children.  AYe  admit  this  principle 
in  reference  to  all  other  things.  We  believe  that 
every  shadow  and  every  beauty  of  the  mother's  cha- 
racter prints  its  image  on  the  child's  soul — that  the 
songs  sung  over  the  cradle  hide  themselves  away  in 
the  nooks  and  crannies  of  the  tender  life,  to  sing 
themselves  out  aii;ain   in  the  lono;  vears  to  come. 

18 


274  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

We  l)eiicve  the  same  of  every  other  influence,  and 
nuist  we  not  of  pictures  and  statuary  as  well  ? 

A  godly  man  said  that  when  quite  youniz;  an  evil 
picture  was  shown  to  him  on  the  street.  He  saw  it 
only  once  and  for  a  moment,  but  he  had  never  been 
able  to  forget  it,  and  it  had  left  a  trail  of  stain  all 
along  his  years. 

I  plead  for  most  earnest  consideration  of  this 
w^hole  question  of  the  morals  of  home-decoration. 
A  dew-drop  on  a  leaf  in  the  morning  mirrors  the 
whole  sky  above  it,  whether  it  be  blue  and  clear  or 
whether  it  be  covered  with  clouds.  In  like  manner 
the  life  of  a  child  mirrors  and  absorbs  into  itself 
whatever  overhangs  it  in  the  home — beauty  and 
purity  or  blemish  and  stain. 


XXVIII. 

PICTURES  IN  THE  HEART. 

IVTIEBUHR,  the  distinguished  traveler,  became 
-^  ^    blind  in  his  old  age.     Sut,  having  traversed 
many  lands,  amid  the  fairest  and  loveliest  scenes 
of  the  world,  he  had  stored  away  in  his  memory 
countless  pictures  of  landscapes,  mountain-scenery, 
vales  of  rare  beauty  and  great  and  splendid  cities. 
Then,  as  he  lay  upon  his  bed  or  reposed  on  his 
easy-chair,  his  face  would   often   brighten   into  a 
rich   glow,   as   if   some   inner   light   was   shining 
through.      He   was    pondering    once   more    some 
splendid  scene  he  had  looked  upon  in  the  sunny 
Orient.      The  chamber-walls  of  his  memory  were 
hung  all  over  with  pictures  which  filled  his  dark- 
ened years  with  joy  and  beauty.     It  mattered  not 
to  him  that  the  light  had  gone  out,  leaving  thick 
gloom  all  about  him.     His  heart  was  his  world, 
and   there  was    no   darkness   there.      No   putting 
out  of  sun  or  star  could  obscure  the  pictures  that 


hung  in  that  sacred  house  of  his  soul. 


275 


276  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

Ill  a  far  truer  sense  than  many  of  us  are  aware 
do  our  hearts  make  our  world  for  us.  The  things 
we  behold  are  but  the  shadows  of  the  things  that 
are  in  us.  If  we  have  bright  pictures  in  our  heart, 
the  whole  world,  wherever  we.  go,  will  be  a  pic- 
ture-gallery. Every  scene  wdll  be  a  panorama  of 
beauty.  The  most  repulsive  objects  wdll  wear  a 
tinge  of  loveliness.  On  the  other  hand,  a  sombre, 
cheerless  heart  clothes  the  whole  world  in  shadow 
and  gloom. 

A  writer  says :  "  A  cold  firebrand  and  a  burn- 
ing lamp  started  out  one  day  to  see  what  they 
could  find.  The  firebrand  came  back  and  wrote 
in  its  journal  that  the  w^iole  world  was  very  dark. 
It  did  not  find  a  place  wherever  it  w^ent  in  which 
there  was  light.  Everywhere  w^as  darkness.  The 
lamp  when  it  came  back  wrote  in  its  journal : 
'Wherever  I  went  it  was  light.  I  did  not  find 
any  darkness  in  all  my  journey.'  The  whole  world 
was  light.  The  lamp  carried  light  with  it,  and 
when  it  went  abroad  it  illuminated  everything. 
The  dead  firebrand  carried  no  light,  and  it  found 
none  wdiere  it  went.'^  Living  men  and  women  go 
through  the  world,  and,  returning,  write  records  of 
observation  just  as  diverse  as  these.  Some  find 
only  gloom  in  the  fairest  paths,  and  amid  the  love- 


PICTURES  IN  THE  HEART.  277 

liest  scenes  nothing  beautiful.  Others  find  noth- 
ing but  beauty  and  brightness  even  in  the  deepest 
vales  of  earth.  Each  one  finds  just  what  he  takes 
out  in  himself.  The  colors  he  sees  are  the  tints  of 
his  own  inner  life. 

Many  people  naove  amid  unbroken  music,  hear- 
ing not  one  note;  so,  in  a  spiritual  world  full  of 
heavenly  presences,  men  remain  unconscious  of  the 
love  and  companionship  that  linger  about  them. 
Having  eyes  they  see  not,  and  having  ears  they 
hear  not.  Their  sorrows  go  uncomforted,  while 
the  Comforter  stands  close  beside  them.  The 
world  seems  dreary  and  cold,  while  tender  warmth 
and  rich  beauty  lie  close  around  them. 

This  is  true  in  our  commonest  life.  How  many 
of  us  find  all  the  good  there  is  in  our  lot !  Do  we 
extract  the  honey  from  every  flower  that  blooms  in 
our  path  ?  Do  we  find  all  the  gold  that  lies  in  the 
hard  rocks  over  which  our  feet  stumble  ?  Do  we 
behold  all  the  beauty  that  glows  along  the  Avays 
of  our  sore  toil  ?  Do  not  many  good  things  pass 
through  our  hands  and  slip  away  from  us  for  ever 
before  we  even  recognize  their  loveliness  or  their 
worth?  Do  not  angels  come  to  us  unaware  in 
homely  disguise,  walk  with  us,  talk  with  us,  min- 
ister to  us,  and  then  only  become   known  to  us 


278  WEIJK-DA  y  LELIGWN. 

when  tlioir  })lace  is  empty  and  they  have  spread 
their  radiant  winji^s  in  flio^ht  which  we  have  no 
power  ever  to  recall? 

The  baby  seemed  very  troublesome  as  it  broke 
your  night's  rest  with  its  cries  and  you  were  com- 
pelled to  rise  and  care  for  it.  But  when  it  lay 
liushed  and  still  for  ever  among  the  flowers,  what 
would  you  not  have  given  to  have  heard  it  cry 
again?  ^ye  never  see  the  beauty  of  our  friends 
till  they  are  vanishing  out  of  our  sight.  While 
they  were  with  us  we  were  impatient  of  their 
faults.  Their  habits  fretted  us.  But  when  death 
touched  them  it  clothed  them  in  a  garb  of  bril- 
liant beauty.  They  appeared  transfigured.  Out  of 
the  dull,  faulty  character  sprang  a  radiant  angel- 
form,  and  hovered  just  beyond  our  reach  for  ever. 
What  joy  and  blessing  it  had  brought  to  our  lives 
to  have  seen  the  beauty  and  the  worth  before  the 
evanishing ! 

So  it  is  in  all  life.  It  really  takes  but  very 
little  to  make  any  one  happy,  yet  there  are  many 
who  cannot  extract  even  a  reasonable  happiness 
from  a  world  of  luxuries  and  joys.  There  are 
some  who  see  nothing  to  admire  in  the  most 
magnificent  collections  of  rare  works  of  art,  while 
others  stand  enraptured  before  the  rudest  picture. 


PICTURES  IN  THE  HEART.  279 

There  are  those  who  will  go  through  a  forest  on 
a  June  morning  when  a  thousand  birds  are  war- 
bling and  hear  not  one  note  of  song,  while  others 
are  thrilled  and  charmed  by  the  coarsest  bird-note 
that  falls  out  of  the  air.  One  man  sees  no  beauty 
in  the  most  picturesque  landscape;  another  finds 
some  tender  bit  of  loveliness  in  the  barest  and 
most  rugged  scenery.  One  cannot  find  pleas- 
ure or  contentment  amid  the  most  lavish  abund- 
ance ;  another  finds  enough  in  the  sheerest  poverty 
to  give  deep  happiness  and  evoke  hearty  praise. 

In  nothing  does  this  distinction  come  out  more 
clearly  than  in  the  way  the  ills  of  life  appear. 
One  class  of  persons  see  nothing  but  ills.  Every- 
thing wears  to  them  a  sombre  aspect.  Smallest 
trials  are  magnified  into  crushing  disasters.  All 
troubles  look  exaggerated  to  their  vision. 

"We  overstate  the  ills  of  life,  and  take 
Imagination  (given  us  to  bring  down 
The  choirs  of  singing  angels  overshone 
By  God's  clear  glory)  down  on  earth  to  rake 
The  dismal  snows  instead,  flake  following  flake, 
To  cover  all  the  corn.     We  walk  upon 
The  shadow  of  hills  across  a  level  tlirown, 
And  pant  like  climbers." 

These  see  nothing  but  adversity  in  all  their  days* 
They  find  some  cause  for  discontent  in  the  serenes) 
circumstances. 


280  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

Then  otlicrs  find  only  blessing  wherever  {\\Qy 
go.  Their  sorrows  are  struck  through  with  the 
glory  of  GocFs  love.  In  the  baptistery  at  Pisa 
the  dome  is  so  constructed  that  sounds  uttered 
below  come  back  in  a  delightful  response  of  melo- 
dious music,  and  even  a  discord  is  converted  into 
a  harmony  as  it  floats  up  into  the  resonant  vault 
and  returns  to  the  ear.  Such  a  dome  hangs  over 
these  souls.  Even  the  painful  and  discordant 
thiuirs  are  changed  into  rich  harmonies. 

Life  seems  different  to  different  people  because 
their  hearts  differ.  One  man  listens  to  thrilling 
music  and  is  not  moved ;  under  the  same  strains 
another  feels  his  soul  kindled  into  rapture.  The 
first  has  no  music  in  his  own  bosom  to  interpret 
the  melody  that  strikes  his  ear  from  without;  the 
other  has  a  singing  angel  in  his  breast  that  responds 
to  every  sweet  note  that  breathes  through  the  air 
about  him.  "You  must  have  the  bird  in  your 
heart,"  says  some  one,  "  before  you  can  find  it  in 
the  bush." 

It  is  not,  then,  half  so  much  the  outward  in 
life  that  we  need  to  have  changed  as  the  spirit  of 
the  inner  life.  The  cause  of  discontent  is  not  in 
men's  circumstances,  but  in  their  own  spirit  and 
temper.     Get  the   song   into  your  heart,  and  you 


PICTURES  IN  THE  HEART.  281 

will  hear  songs  all  about  you.  Even  the  wail- 
ing storm  will  but  make  music  for  you.  Get  the 
beauty  and  the  good  into  your  own  soul,  and  you 
will  see  only  beauty  and  good  in  all  things.  Get 
the  peace  deep  into  your  own  life,  and  you  will 
find  peace  in  every  lot. 

Our  hearts  make  our  world  for  us.  The  things 
we  see  around  us  are  but  the  shadows  of  our  inner 
experiences,  which  are  cast  outside.  The  things 
we  hear  are  but  the  echoes  of  our  own  inner 
thoughts  and  feelings.  Pictures  in  the  heart  fill 
all  the  world  with  ugliness  or  loveliness. 


XXIX. 

LOSSES. 

nriHERE  is  no  other  loss,  iu  all  the  range  of 
-^  possible  losses,  that  is  so  great  as  the  breaking 
of  our  communion  with  God.  I  know  that  this  is 
not  the  ordinary  estimate.  We  speak  with  heavy 
hearts  of  our  earthly  sorrows.  When  bereavements 
come  and  our  homes  are  emptied  and  our  tender 
joys  are  borne  away,  we  think  there  is  no  grief 
like  ours.  Our  lives  are  darkened,  and  very 
dreary  does  this  earth  appear  to  us  as  we  walk 
its  paths  in  loneliness.  The  shadow  that  hangs 
about  us  darkens  all  the  world. 

There  are  other  losses — losses  of  friends  by 
alienation  or  misunderstanding;  losses  of  prop- 
erty, of  comforts,  of  health,  of  reputation ;  the 
shattering  of  beautiful  and  brilliant  hopes,  but 
there  is  not  one  of  these  that  is  such  a  calamity 
as  the  loss  of  God's  smile  or  the  interruption  of 
fellow^ship  with  him. 

Men    siijh   over   those   misfortunes   which  touch 

282 


LOSSES.  283 

only  their  earthly  circumstances,  but  forget  that 
the  worst  of  all  misfortunes  is  the  decay  of  spirit- 
uality in  their  hearts.  It  would  be  well  if  all  of 
us  understood  this.  There  are  earthly  misfortunes 
under  which  hearts  remain  all  the  while  warm  and 
tender,  like  the  flower-roots  beneath  the  winter's 
snows,  ready  to  burst  into  glorious  bloom  when 
the  glad  springtime  comes.  Then  there  are 
worldly  prosperities  under  which  spiritual  life 
withers  and  dies.  Adversity  is  ofttimes  the  rich- 
est of  blessings.  But  the  loss  of  God's  smile  is 
always  the  sorest  of  calamities. 

We  do  not  know  what  God  is  to  us  until  we 
lose  the  sense  of  his  presence  and  the  conscious- 
ness of  his  love. 

This  is  true,  indeed,  of  all  blessings.  We  do 
not  know  their  value  to  us  until  they  are  imper- 
iled or  lost.  We  do  not  prize  health  till  it  is 
shattered  and  we  begin  to  realize  that  we  can 
never  have  it  restored  again.  We  do  not  recog- 
nize the  richness  of  youth  until  it  has  fled,  with 
all  its  glorious  opportunities,  and  worlds  cannot 
buy  it  back.  We  do  not  appreciate  the  comforts 
and  blessings  of  Providence  till  we  have  been  de- 
prived of  them  and  are  driven  out  of  warm  homes 
into  the  cold  paths  of  a  dreary  world.     We  do  not 


284  WJ^:EK-J)Ay  RELIGION. 

estimate  tlie  value  of  our  facilities  for  education 
and  improvement  till  the  period  of  these  opportu- 
nities is  gone  and  we  must  enter  the  battle  of  life 
imperfectly  equipped.  We  do  not  know  how 
much  our  friends  are  to  us  till  they  lie  before 
us  silent  and  cold.  Ofttimes  the  empty  place  or 
the  deep  loneliness  about  us  is  the  first  revealer 
of  the  worth  of  one  we  failed  duly  to  prize  while 
by  our  side. 

In  like  manner,  we  do  not  know  the  blessedness 
of  fellowship  with  God  until  his  face  is  darkened 
or  he  seems  to  have  withdrawn  himself.  Jesus 
was  never  so  precious  to  the  disciples  as  when 
they  had  him  no  more.  Two  of  his  friends,  in- 
deed, never  openly  confessed  their  love  for  him 
until  his  body  hung  on  the  cross.  They  had  se- 
cretly loved  him  all  along,  but  now,  as  they  saw 
that  he  was  dead  and  that  thev  could  never,  as 
they  supposed,  do  anything  more  for  him  or  enjoy 
his  presence  again,  all  their  heart's  silent  love 
awoke  in  them,  and  they  came  boldly  out  and 
begged  his  body,  gently  took  it  down  in  the  sight 
of  the  multitude,  and  bore  it  to  loving  burial. 
But  for  his  death  they  would  never  have  realized 
how  much  they  loved  him  or  how  much  he  wafi 
to  them. 


LOSSES.  285 

In  like  manner,  David  never  knew  what  God 
and  God's  house  were  to  his  soul  until  he  was 
driven  away  from  his  home  and  could  no  more 
enter  the  sanctuary.  As  he  fled  away  it  seemed  as 
if  his  very  heart  would  break ;  yet  his  deepest  sor- 
row was  not  for  the  joys  of  home  left  behind — for 
throne,  crown,  palace  and  honors — but  for  the 
house  of  God,  with  its  hallowed  and  blessed  com- 
munion. All  the  other  bitter  griefs  and  sorrows 
of  the  hour  were  swallowed  up  in  this  greatest  of 
all  his  griefs — separation  from  the  divine  presence. 
Nor  do  I  believe  that  the  privileges  of  divine  fel- 
lowship had  ever  been  so  precious  to  him  before 
while  he  enjoyed  them  without  hindrance  or  in- 
terruption as  now  when  he  looked  from  his  exile 
toward  the  holy  place  and  could  not  return  to  it. 

Does  not  the  very  commonness  of  our  religious 
blessings  conceal  from  us  their  inestimable  value? 
Luther  somewhere  says,  "  If,  in  his  gifts  and  ben- 
efits, God  were  more  sparing  and  close-handed,  we 
should  learn  to  be  more  thankful."  The  very  un- 
broken continuity  of  God's  favors  causes  us  to  lose 
sight  of  the  Giver,  and  to  forget  to  prize  the  gifts 
themselves.  If  there  were  gaps  somewhere,  we 
should  learn  to  appreciate  the  outflow  of  the  divine 
goodness.     Who  is  there  among  us  all  that  values 


286  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

liidilv  cnoiiixh  the  tender  summer  of  God's  love 
that  broods  over  us  with  infinite  warmth  ever- 
more? Our  church  privileges,  our  open  Bibles, 
our  religious  liberty,  our  Sabbath  teacliings  and 
communings,  our  hours  of  prayer, — do  we  prize 
these  blessings  as  we  would  if  we  were  suddenly 
torn  away  from  them  by  some  cruel  fortune  and 
cast  in  a  land  W' here  all  these  are  wanting  ?  Do  we 
appreciate  our  privileges  of  fellowship  with  God 
as  we  w^ould  if  for  an  hour  his  love  should  be 
withdrawn  and  the  light  of  his  presence  put  out? 
There  is  something  very  sad  in  the  thought  that 
we  not  only  fail  to  value  the  rich  blessings  of  God's 
love,  but  that  we  ofttimes  thrust  them  from  us  and 
refuse  to  take  them,  thereby  both  wounding  the 
divine  heart  and  impoverishing  our  own  souls.  It 
would  be  a  very  bitter  thing  if  any  of  us  should 
first  be  made  truly  aware  of  the  presence  and  grace 
of  Christ  by  his  vanishing  for  ever  from  our  sight, 
after  having  for  long  years  stood  with  wondrous 
patience  at  our  locked  and  bolted  doors.  It  would 
be  a  bitter  thing  to  learn  the  blessedness  of  the 
things  of  the  mercy  and  love  of  God  as  we  are 
often  only  made  aware  of  the  value  of  earthly 
blessings — by  seeing  them  depart  for  ever  beyond 
our  reach. 


LOSSES.  287 

There  is  another  phase  of  this  subject  which 
ought  to  bring  unspeakable  comfort  to  God's  chil- 
dren who  are  called  to  suffer  earthly  losses.  If 
they  have  God  left  to  them,  no  other  loss  is  irrep- 
arable. A  gentleman  came  home  one  evening 
with  a  heavy  heart,  and  said  that  he  had  lost 
everything.  Bankruptcy  had  overtaken  him. 
"We  are  utterly  beggared,"  he  said.  "All  is 
gone ;  there  is  nothing  left.  We  must  go  out  of 
our  home  beggars  for  to-morrow's  bread."  His 
little  girl  of  five  years  crept  up  on  his  knee,  and, 
looking  earnestly  into  his  despairing  face,  said, 
"Why,  papa,  you  have  mamma  and  me  left." 

Yes,  what  is  the  loss  of  money,  stores,  houses, 
costly  furniture,  musical  instruments  and  works 
of  art  while  love  remains?  Or  what  are  tempo- 
ral and  worldly  losses  of  the  sorest  kind  while 
God  remains?  There  is  surely  enough  in  him  to 
compensate  a  thousand  times  for  every  earthly  de- 
privation. Our  lives  may  be  stripped  bare — home, 
friends,  riches,  comforts,  gone,  every  sweet  voice 
of  love,  every  note  of  joy  silenced — and  we  may 
be  driven  out  from  briglitness,  music,  tenderness 
and  shelter  into  the  cold  ways  of  sorrow ;  yet  if 
we  have  God  himself  left,  ought  it  not  to  suffice  ? 
Is  he  not  able  to  restore  again  to  us  all  we  have 


288  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

lost?  Is  he  not  in  liimsclf  infinitely  more  than 
all  his  gifts?  If  we  have  him,  can  we  need  any- 
thing else?  In  very  beantiful  words  has  Mrs. 
Browning  expressed  this  truth: 

"All  are  not  taken;  there  are  left  behind 
Living  Beloveds,  tender  looks  to  bring, 
And  make  the  daylight  still  a  happy  thing, 

And  tender  voices,  to  make  soft  the  wind. 

But  if  it  were  not  so — if  I  could  find 
No  love  in  all  the  world  for  comforting, 
Nor  any  path  but  hollowly  did  ring, 

Where  'Dust  to  dust'  the  love  from  life  disjoined, 
And  if,  before  those  sepulchres  unmoving, 

I  stood  alone  (as  some  forsaken  lamb 

Goes  bleating  up  the  moor  in  weary  dearth). 
Crying,  'Where  are  ye,  O  my  loved  and  loving?' — • 

I  know  a  Voice  would  sound :  '  Daughter,  I  am  ! 
Can  I  suffice  for  heaven,  and  not  for  earth  ?' " 

Therefore  is  it  that  so  often  we  do  not  learn  the 
depth  and  riches  of  God's  love  and  the  sweetness 
of  his  presence  till  other  joys  vanish  out  of  our 
hands  and  other  loved  presences  fade  away  out  of 
sight.  The  loss  of  temporal  things  seems  ofttimes 
to  be  necessary  to  empty  our  hearts  that  they  may 
receive  the  things  that  are  unseen  and  eternal. 
Into  many  a  life  God  is  never  permitted  to  enter 
until  sorest  earthly  losses  have  made  room  for  him. 
The  door  is  never  opened  to  him  until  the  soul's 
dead  joys  are  borne  out;  then,  while  it  stands  open. 


LOSSES.  289 

he  enters  bearing  into  it  joys  immortal.  Plow  often 
is  it  true  tliat  the  sweeping  away  of  our  earthly  hopes 
reveals  the  glory  of  our  heart's  refuge  in  God ! 

Some  one  has  beautifully  said,  ^' Our  refuges 
are  like  the  nests  of  birds:  in  summer  they  are 
hidden  among  the  green  leaves,  but  in  winter  they 
are  seen  among  the  naked  branches."  Worldly 
losses  but  strip  off  the  foliage  and  disclose  to  us 
our  heart's  warm  nest  in  the  bosom  of  God, 

19 


XXX. 

THE  SERVICE  OF  CONSECRATION. 

A  BOU  BEN  ADHEM  awoke  one  night  from 
"^-^  a  dream  of  peace — so  runs  the  Eastern  story 
— and  saw  within  the  moonlight  in  his  room, 
making  it  rich,  and  like  a  lily  in  bloom,  an  angel 
writing  in  a  book  of  gold.  He  asked,  "  What 
writest  thou  ?"  The  angel  answered,  "  The  names 
of  those  who  love  the  Lord."  "Is  mine  there?" 
he  asked.  "Nay,"  replied  the  angel.  Then  Abou 
softly  and  cheerily  said,  "  I  pray  thee,  then,  write 
me  as  one  that  loves  his  fellow-men."  Next  niujht 
the  vision  came  again,  disclosing  the  names  whom 
love  of  God  had  blessed,  and,  lo !  Ben  Adhem's 
name  led  all  the  rest. 

The  more  deeply  we  read  into  the  life  and  teach- 
ings of  our  Lord  and  his  apostles,  the  more  clearly 
does  it  appear  that  the  golden  thought  of  this  old 
legend  comes  out  of  the  very  heart  of  the  gospel. 
It  lies  embedded  not  only  in  John's  Epistles,  but 

in  the  teachings  of  the  Master  himself.     Love  for 
29n 


THE  SERVICE  OF  CONSECRATION.        291 

God  is  only  a  vaporous  sentiment,  a  misty  emo- 
tion, unless  it  manifest  itself  in  love  for  men. 

Our  Lord  gave  us  a  picture  of  the  last  judg- 
ment which  at  first  almost  startles  us ;  for,  instead 
of  making  faith  in  himself  or  love  for  God  the 
test  of  men's  lives,  he  makes  all  turn,  in  that  great 
final  day,  upon  the  way  they  have  treated  others 
in  this  world.  Those  who  have  used  their  gifts 
to  feed  the  hungry,  to  clothe  the  naked,  to  relieve 
the  distress  of  the  poor,  the  prisoner,  the  sick,  are 
welcomed  into  eternal  joy.  Those  who  have  shut 
up  their  hands  and  hearts,  allowing  human  need 
and  suffering  to  go  unrelieved,  are  themselves  shut 
away  from  blessedness. 

Are  men,  then,  after  all,  saved  by  good  works? 
No;  the  meaning  of  the  picture  lies  deeper  than 
that.  True  love  for  Christ  always  opens  men's 
hearts  toward  their  fellows.  There  is  another  fea- 
ture of  the  picture  which  presents  this  truth  in 
still  clearer  light.  Christ  appears  accepting  every- 
thing done  to  the  needy  as  done  to  himself  in  per- 
son:  "I  was  anhungered,  and  ye  gave  me  m^at. 
I  was  sick,  and  ye  visited  me.'^  Then,  when  the 
righteous  say,  in  amazement,  "Why,  we  never  saw 
thee  hungry  and  fed  thee,  or  found  thee  sick  and 
ministered  unto  thee,"  he  explains  by  saying  "  Ah ! 


292  WJCEK-DAY  EELiaiOy. 

you  duln't  know  it,  but  every  time  you  feJ  ii  liun- 
gry  neighbor,  or  gave  a  eu^)  of  water  to  a  thirsty 
pilgrim,  or  visited  a  siek  man,  or  clothed  an  orphan- 
child,  or  wrought  any  ministry  of  kindness  to  one 
in  need,  you  did  it  to  me" — that  is,  the  way  he 
wants  us  to  serve  him  is  by  serving  those  who  need 
our  ministry.  The  incense  he  loves  best  is  that 
which  is  burned,  not  in  a  golden  censer  to  waste 
its  perfume  on  the  air,  but  in  the  iionies  of  need 
to  cheer  some  human  weariness  or  comfort  some 
human  sorrow. 

The  whole  matter  of  practical  consecration  is 
ofttimes  very  unsatisfactory.  We  say  that  we  give 
ourselves  to  Christ,  making  an  unreserved  consecra- 
tion of  all  our  gifts  and  powers  to  his  service.  AVe 
are  not  insincere,  yet  are  w^e  not  conscious  that  in 
our  actual  living  we  utterly  fail  to  make  good  our 
solemn  covenants  and  honest  intentions?  It  may 
help  us  take  our  consecration  out  of  the  region  of 
the  emotional  and  make  it  real  to  remember  that 
it  is  a  livins:  sacrifice  we  are  to  make  of  ourselves 
to  God — that  is,  it  is  not  merely  hymn-singing, 
praying  and  love-rapture  he  wants,  but  a  living 
service  in  his  name  and  for  him  in  this  blighted 
world. 

The  old  monks  used  to  hide  away  in  deserts  and 


THE  SERVICE  OF  CONSECRATION.        293 

mountains  and  in  monastery  cells,  as  far  as  possible 
from  human  sin  and  need,  and  thought  that  the 
kind  of  service  Christ  wanted.  Sometimes  they 
would  torture  themselves,  lacerate  their  bodies, 
fast,  live  in  the  cold  and  storms.  Some  of  them 
dwelt  for  years  on  tops  of  pillars  and  monuments, 
exposed  to  rain  and  snow,  to  heat  and  tempest,  and 
thought  that  they  were  offering  most  acceptable 
sacrifices  to  God. 

But  they  were  not.  They  were  only  wasting, 
in  idle  reverie,  useless  sacrifice,  unavailing  suffering 
and  hideous  self-torture,  the  glorious  gifts  which 
God  had  bestowed  upon  them  to  be  used  in  serv- 
ing others.  Only  the  living  sacrifice  is  pleasing. 
We  bring  our  natural  endowments,  our  acquired 
powers  or  gains,  our  gifts  and  blessings,  to  his 
feet;  and,  touching  them  with  his  benediction,  he 
gives  them  back  to  us  and  says,  "  Take  these  again 
and  use  them  for  me  in  bearing  joy,  help,  comfort, 
cheer  or  inspiration  to  those  about  you  and  in 
life's  paths  who  need  your  ministries." 

As  we  read  still  more  deeply  into  the  heart  of 
this  matter,  we  find  that  God  bestows  no  gift, 
j)Ower  or  blessing  upon  us  for  ourselves  alone. 
Take  money.  The  mistake  of  the  rich  man  in 
our  Lord's  parable  was  not  that  he  was  rich.     He 


294  WJCJ'JK-DA  Y  RELIGION. 

made  his  wealth  honestly.  God  gave  it  to  him 
ill  abundant  harvests.  But  his  sin  began  when 
he  asked,  "AVhat  shall  I  do  with  all  this  wealth? 
Where  shall  I  bestow  all  my  fast-increasing  goods?" 
His  decision  showed  that  he  was  living  only  for 
himself.  He  thought  not  of  his  relation  to  God 
above  or  to  men  about  him.  ^^  I  will  l}uild  larger 
barns,  and  there  bestow  my  goods.''  Instead  of 
using  his  wealth  to  bless  others,  he  would  hoard  it 
and  keep  it  all  in  his  owm  hands.  The  man  who 
fulfills  his  mission  and  illustrates  his  consecration 
when  money  is  given  to  him  is  he  who  says,  "This 
is  not  mine.  I  have  received  it  through  God's 
blessing.  He  has  greatly  honored  me  in  making 
me  his  agent  to  use  it  for  him.  It  is  a  sacred  trust, 
granted  to  be  employed  in  his  name  for  the  bless- 
ing of  men ;  I  must  do  with  it  just  what  Christ 
himself  would  do  if  he  were  here  in  my  place." 

Or  take  knowledge.  Culture,  in  a  consecrated 
life,  is  not  to  be  sought  for  its  own  sake,  but  that 
we  may  thereby  be  made  capable  of  doing  more 
for  the  good  or  the  joy  of  others.  Each  new  lesson 
in  life,  each  new  accession  to  our  knowledge,  each 
new"  experience,  is  legitimately  employed  only 
when  it  is  turned  at  once  into  some  channel  of 
personal  helpfulness.     One  has  the  gift  of  music, 


THE  SERVICE  OF  CONSECRATION.       295 

and  can  sing  or  play  well.  The  kind  of  consecra- 
tion Christ  wants  of  this  gift  is  its  use  to  do  good 
to  others,  to  make  them  happier  or  better,  to  put 
songs  into  silent  hearts  and  joys  into  sad  hearts. 
Of  all  gifts,  there  is  no  one,  perhaps,  capable  of 
a  diviner  ministry  than  is  the  gift  of  song. 

"  God  sent  his  singers  upon  earth, 
With  songs  of  sadness  and  of  mirth, 
That  they  might  touch  the  hearts  of  men, 
And  bring  tliem  back  to  heaven  again." 

A  young  lady  can  read  well.  If  she  would  carry 
oui  the  spirit  of  her  consecration  to  Christ,  she  is 
to  employ  her  acquisition  in  giving  happiness  and 
profit  to  others.  She  can  brighten  many  an  even- 
ing hour  in  her  own  home  by  reading  aloud  to  the 
loved  ones  that  cluster  around  the  hearth-stone. 
Or  she  can  do  still  more  Christly  work  by  seeking 
out  the  aged  with  dim  eyes,  the  poor  who  cannot 
read,  or  the  sick  in  their  lonely  chambers,  and 
quietly  and  tenderly  reading  to  them  Avords  of 
comfort,  instruction  and  divine  love. 

Take  the  blessings  of  spiritual  experience* 
There  is  a  wonderful  sentence  in  one  of  Paul's 
letters.  He  is  thanking  God  for  the  comfort 
which  he  had  given  to  him  in  some  sorrow,  and 
he  says,  ^'  Blessed  be  the  God  of  all  comfort,  ^vIk 


^^J6  WEKK-DA  Y  RKLIGIOy. 

oonifortcth  us  in  all  our  tribulation,  Ihat  we  may 
be  able  to  comfort  them  which  are  in  any  trouhlf,  by 
tlie  comfort  wherewith  we  ourselves  are  comforted 
of  God  " — that  is,  he  praised  God  not  merely  be- 
cause he  had  liimself  been  comforted,  but  because 
the  comfort  which  had  been  given  to  him  in  his 
sorrow  gave  him  added  power  wlierewith  to 
comfort  others. 

It  was  a  great  thing  to  feel  the  warmth  of  God^s 
love  breaking  into  his  heart,  the  light  of  his  face 
streaming    upon    his   soul,   and    his    blessed    peace 
stealing  into  his  bosom.     But  his  personal  experi- 
ence of  joy  in  being  thus  comforted  was  entirely 
buried  away  in  the  gladness  of  the  other  thought, 
"  Ah !    now   I   can   be   a   better   preacher   to   the 
troubled.     I    can    bring    more   consolation    to   the 
sorrowing.     I   have   gotten  a  new  power  of  help- 
fulness wit!)    which   to   .serve    my  fellows.     I  can 
do  moi'e  hereafter  to  wi})e  away  tears  and  to  put 
songs  into  the  hearts  of  others."     It  was  for  this 
that  he    thanked    God — not   that   the  comfort   of 
God  had  been  imparted  to  him,  although  that  was 
a  great  joy,  but  that  he  had  something  now  which 
he  never  had  before  with  which  to  do  good  and 
scatter   benedictions.     His   greatest   gladness  was, 
not  that  God  had  lighted  a  new  lamp  in  his  souJ 


THE  SERVICE  OF  CONSECRATION.       297 

to  pour  its  heavenly  beams  upon  his  own  sorrow, 
although  that  was  cause  for  deep  praise,  but  that 
lie  had  now  a  new  lamp  to  carry  into  other  dark- 
ened homes.  What  a  sublimity  of  usefulness ! 
Yet  that  is  the  true  Christian  way  of  receiving 
comfort  and  every  spiritual  gift  and  blessing. 
That  is  the  true  idea  of  consecration. 

"  When  thou  art  converted/'  said  the  Master  to 
Peter — "  when  thou  art  converted,  strengthen  thy 
brethren."  His  meaning  was  that  a  new  power 
of  personal  helpfulness  was  to  come  to  him  through 
his  sad  experience  which  he  should  use  in  strength- 
ening others  to  meet  temptation.  Then,  when  he 
had  passed  through  that  terrible  night,  when  he 
had  been  lifted  up  again,  when  he  had  crept  back 
to  the  feet  of  his  risen  Lord  and  had  been  forgiven 
and  rciiir-tated,  he  had  double  cause  for  gratitude — 
tliat  he  himself  had  been  saved  from  hopeless  wreck 
and  restored,  and,  still  more,  that  he  was  now  a 
better  man,  prepared,  in  a  higher  sense  than  before, 
to  be  an  apostle  and  a  patient,  helpful  friend  to 
others  in  similar  trial. 

Then  take  the  still  more  wonderful  experience 
of  our  Lord's  own  temptation.  He  certainly  en- 
dured for  his  own  sake  that  he  might  become  Con- 
queror and  Lord  of  all,  that  he  might  be  "made 


298  Wl'nJK-lJAY  RELIGION. 

perfect  through  sufTerins:,"  hut  that  whidi  tlie 
Scriptures  love  to  linger  upon  as  the  chief  reason 
-why  he  wa.s  called  to  pass  through  temptation  was 
that  he  might  thereby  be  fitted,  by  liis  own  ex- 
periences, to  be  to  his  people  a  sympathizing  and 
lielj^ful  Friend  and  Saviour. 

The  meaning  of  all  this  is  that  we  are  to  receive 
even  our  spiritual  gifts  and  blessings  not  only  as 
mere  tokens  of  the  love  and  kindness  of  God 
toward  us,  but  also  as  new  powers  wherewith  we 
are  to  serve  our  fellow-men.  It  is  easy  to  be  self- 
ish even  in  the  region  of  our  most  sacred  spiritual 
life.  We  may  want  comfoi-t  only  that  we  may  be 
comforted  ourselves.  We  may  desire  high  attain- 
ments in  Christian  life  for  their  own  sake,  with  no 
wish  to  be  made  thereby  greater  blessings  to  the 
world.  But  when  we  seek  in  this  way  we  may 
not  receive.  Even  in  spiritual  things  selfishness 
restrains  the  divine  outflow  toward  us. 

God  does  not  like  to  bestow  his  blessings  where 
they  will  be  hoarded  or  absorbed.  He  loves  to  put 
his  very  best  gifts  into  the  hands  of  those  who  will 
not  store  them  away  in  barns,  or  fold  them  up  in 
napkins  and  hide  them  away,  but  will  scatter  them 
abroad.  He  puts  songs  into  the  hearts  of  those 
who  will  sing  them  out  again.     This  is  the  secret 


THE  SERVICE  OF  CONSECRATION.       299 

of  that  promise  that  to  him  that  hath  shall  be 
given,  and  of  that  other  little  understood,  little 
believed  word  of  Christ,  ^'  It  is  more  blessed  to 
give  than  to  receive."  Heaven's  benediction  comes, 
not  upon  the  receiving,  but  upon  the  dispensing. 
We  are  not  blessed  in  the  act  of  taking,  but  in  the 
act  of  giving  out  again.  Things  we  take  to  keep 
for  ourselves  alone  fade  in  our  hands.  Men  are 
good  and  great  before  God,  not  as  they  gather  into 
their  hands  and  hearts  the  abundant  gifts  of  God, 
whether  temporal  or  spiritual,  but  as  their  gather- 
ino;  auofments  their  usefulness  and  makes  them 
greater  blessings  to  others. 


XXXL 

BEAUTIFUL  OLD  AGE. 

"Softly,  oh  softly,  the  years  have  swept  by  thee, 
Touching  thee  lightly  with  tenderest  care; 
Sorrow  and  care  di^l  they  often  bring  nigh  thee. 
Yet  they  have  left  thee  but  beauty  to  wear." 

rilHTS  may  scarcely  seem  a  fitting  theme  to  in- 
troduce  in  a  book  meant  chiefly  for  the  young, 
and  yet  a  moment's  reflection  will  show  its  appro- 
priateness and  practicalness. 

Old  age  is  the  harvest  of  all  the  years  that  have 
gone  before.  It  is  the  barn  into  which  all  the 
sheaves  are  gathered.  It  is  the  sea  into  which  all 
the  rills  and  rivers  of  life  flow  from  their  springs 
in  the  hills  and  valleys  of  youth  and  manhood. 
We  are  each,  in  all  our  earlier  years,  building  the 
house  in  which  we  shall  have  to  live  when  we  grow 
old.  And  we  may  make  it  a  prison  or  a  palace. 
We  may  make  it  very  beautiful,  adorning  it  with 
taste  and  filling  it  with  objects  which  shall  minister 
to   our    pleasure,   comfort   and    power.       We  may 

300 


BEAUTIFUL  OLD  AGE.  301 

cover  the  walls  with  lovely  pictures.  We  may 
spread  luxurious  couches  of  ease  on  which  to  rest. 
We  may  lay  up  in  store  great  supplies  of  provision 
upon  which  to  feed  in  the  days  of  hunger  and 
feebleness.  We  may  gather  and  pile  away  large 
bundles  of  wood  to  keep  the  fires  blazing  brightly 
in  the  long  winter  days  and  nights  of  old  age. 

Or  we  may  make  our  house  very  gloomy.  AYe 
may  hang  the  chamber-walls  with  horrid  pictures, 
covering  them  with  ghastly  spectres  which  shall 
look  dow^n  uj^on  us  and  haunt  us,  filling  our  souls 
with  terror  when  we  sit  in  the  gathering  darkness 
of  life's  nightfall.  We  may  make  beds  of  thorns 
to  rest  upon.  We  may  lay  up  nothing  to  feed 
upon  in  the  hunger  and  craving  of  declining  years. 
We  may  have  no  fuel  ready  for  the  winter  fires. 

We  may  plant  roses  to  bloom  about  our  doors 
and  fragrant  gardens  to  pour  their  perfumes  about 
us,  or  we  may  sow  weeds  and  briers  to  flaunt  them- 
selves in  our  faces  as  we  sit  in  our  doorways  in 
the  gloaming. 

All  old  age  is  not  beautiful.  All  old  people  are 
not  happy.  Some  are  very  wretched,  with  hollow, 
Bcpulchral  lives.  Many  an  ancient  palace  was  built 
over  a  dark  dungeon.  There  were  the  marble  walls 
that  shone  with  dazzling  splendor  in  the  sunlight. 


302  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

There  were  the  wide  gilded  cliainbers  with  their 
magnificent  frescoes  and  their  splendid  iidornments, 
the  gayety,  the  music  and  the  revelry.  But  deep 
down  beneath  all  this  luxurious  splendor  and  (hiz- 
zling  display  was  the  dungeon  filled  with  its  un- 
happy victims,  and  up  through  the  iron  gratings 
came  the  sad  groans  and  moanings  of  despair, 
echoino;  and  reverberatins;  throua;h  the  p;ilded 
halls  and  ceiled  chambers;  and  in  this  I  see  a 
picture  of  many  an  old  age.  It  may  have  abun- 
dant comforts  and  much  that  tells  of  j^rosperity 
in  an  outward  sense — wealth,  honors,  friends,  the 
pomp  and  circumstance  of  greatness — but  it  is 
only  a  palace  built  over  a  gloomy  dungeon  of 
memory,  up  from  whose  deep  and  dark  recesses 
come  evermore  voices  of  remorse  and  desjmir  to 
sadden  or  embitter  every  hour  and  to  cast  shadows 
over  every  lovely  picture  and  every  bright  scene. 
It  is  possible  so  to  live  as  to  make  old  age  very 
sad,  and  then  it  is  possible  so  to  live  as  to  make  it 
very  beautiful.  In  going  my  rounds  in  the  crowd- 
ed city  I  came  one  day  to  a  door  where  my  ears 
were  greeted  with  a  great  chorus  of  bird-songs. 
There  were  birds  everywhere — in  parlor,  in  din- 
ing-room, in  bedchamber,  in  hall — and  the  whole 
house  was  filled  with  their  joyful  music.     So  may 


BEAUTIFUL  OLD  AGE.  303 

old  age  be.  So  it  is  for  those  who  have  lived 
aright.  It  is  fall  of  music.  Every  memory  is  a 
little  snatch  of  song.  The  sweet  bird-notes  of 
heavenly  peace  sing  everywhere,  and  the  last  days 
of  life  are  its  happiest  days — 

"  Rich  in  experience  that  angels  might  covet, 
Rich  in  a  faith  that  lias  grown  with  the  years." 

The  important  practical  question  is,  How  can 
we  so  live  that  our  old  age,  when  it  comes,  shall  be 
beautiful  and  happy  ?  It  will  not  do  to  adjourn 
this  question  until  the  evening  shadows  are  upon 
us.  It  will  be  too  late  then  to  consider  it.  Con- 
sciously or  unconsciously,  we  are  every  day  helping 
to  settle  the  question  whether  our  old  age  shall  be 
=?weet  and  peaceful  or  bitter  and  wretched.  It  is 
worth  our  while,  then,  to  think  a  little  how  to 
make  sure  of  a  happy  old  age. 

We  must  live  a  useful  life.  Nothing  good  ever 
comes  out  of  idleness  or  out  of  selfishness.  The 
standing  water  stagnates  and  breeds  decay  and 
death.  It  is  the  running  stream  that  keeps  pure 
and  sweet.  The  fruit  of  an  idle  life  is  never  joy 
and  peace.  Years  lived  selfishly  never  become 
garden-spots  in  the  field  of  memory.  Hapj^iness 
comes  out  of  self-denial  for  the  good   of  others. 


304  WEEK-DA  Y  RELIGION. 

Sweet  always  are  the  memories  of  good  deeds  done 
and  sacrifices  made.  Their  incense,  like  heavenly 
perfume,  comes  floating  up  from  tlie  fields  of  toil 
and  fills  old  age  with  holy  fragrance.  AVhen  one 
has  lived  to  bless  others,  one  has  many  grateful, 
loving  friends  whose  affection  j)roves  a  wondrous 
source  of  joy  when  the  days  of  feebleness  come. 
Bread  cast  upon  the  waters  is  found  again  after 
many  days. 

I  see  some  people  who  do  not  seem  to  want  to 
make  friends.  They  are  unsocial,  unsympathetic, 
cold,  distant,  disobliging,  selfish.  Others,  again, 
make  no  effort  to  retain  their  friends.  They  cast 
them  away  for  the  slightest  cause.  But  they  are 
robbing  their  later  years  of  joys  they  cannot  afford 
to  lose.  If  we  would  walk  in  the  warmth  of 
friendship's  beams  in  the  late  evening-time,  we 
must  seek  to  make  to  ourselves  loyal  and  faithful 
friends  in  the  busy  hours  that  come  before.  This 
w^e  can  do  by  a  ministry  of  kindness  and  self-for- 
getfulness.  This  was  part  at  least  of  wdiat  our 
Lord  meant  in  that  counsel  which  falls  so  strange- 
ly on  our  ears  until  we  understand  it :  ''  Make  to 
yourselves  friends  of  the  mammon  of  unrighteous- 
ness, that  when  ye  fail,  they  may  receive  you  into 
everlasting  habitations." 


BEAUTIFUL  OLD  AGE.  305 

Again,  we  must  live  a  pure  and  holy  life. 
Every  one  carries  in  himself  the  sources  of  his 
own  happiness  or  wretchedness.  Circumstances 
have  really  very  little  to  do  with  our  inner  expe- 
riences. It  matters  little  in  the  determination  of 
one's  degree  of  enjoyment  whether  he  live  in  a 
cottage  or  a  palace.  It  is  self,  after  all,  that  in 
largest  measure  gives  the  color  to  our  skies  and  the 
tone  to  the  music  we  hear.  A  happy  heart  sees 
rainbows  and  brilliance  everywhere,  even  in  dark- 
est clouds,  and  hears  sweet  strains  of  song  even 
amid  the  loudest  wailings  of  the  storm ;  and  a  sad 
heart,  unhappy  and  discontented,  sees  spots  in  the 
sun,  specks  in  the  rarest  fruits,  and  something  with 
which  to  find  fault  in  the  most  perfect  of  God's 
works,  and  hears  discords  and  jarring  notes  in  the 
heavenliest  music.  So  it  comes  about  that  this 
whole  question  must  be  settled  from  within.  The 
fountains  rise  in  the  heart  itself.  The  old  man, 
like  the  snail,  carries  his  house  on  his  back.  He 
may  change  neighbors  or  homes  or  scenes  or  com- 
panions, but  he  cannot  get  away  from  himself  and 
his  own  past.  Sinful  years  put  thorns  in  the  pil- 
low on  which  the  head  of  old  age  rests.  Lives 
of  passion  and  evil  store  away  bitter  fountains 
from  which  the  old  man  has  to  drink. 

20 


30(i  WEEK-DAY  REIJQION. 

Sin  may  seem  pleasant  to  us  now,  but  we  nuist 
not  forget  how  it  will  appear  when  we  get  past  it 
a!id  turn  to  look  back  upon  it;  especially  must  we 
keep  in  mind  how  it  will  seem  from  a  dying  pil- 
low. Nothing  brings  such  })ure  peace  and  quiet 
joy  at  the  close  a^s  a  well -lived  past.  We  are 
every  day  laying  up  the  food  on  which  we  must 
feed  in  the  closing  years.  We  are  hanging  up 
pictures  about  the  walls  of  our  hearts  that  we 
shall  have  to  look  at  when  we  sit  in  the  shad- 
ows. How  important  that  we  live  pure  and 
holy  lives!  Even  forgiven  sins  will  mar  the  peace 
of  old  ai2:e,  for  the  uirly  scars  will   remain. 

Summing  all  up  in  one  word,  only  Christ  can 
make  any  life,  young  or  old,  truly  beautiful  or 
truly  happy.  Only  he  can  cure  the  heart's  restless 
lever  and  give  quietness  and  calmness.  Only  he 
can  purify  that  sinful  fountain  within  us,  our  corru])t 
nature,  and  make  us  holy.  To  have  a  peaceful  and 
blessed  ending  to  life,  we  must  live  it  with  Christ. 
Such  a  life  grows  brighter  even  to  its  close.  Its 
last  days  are  the  sunniest  and  the  sweetest.  The 
more  earth's  joys  fail,  the  nearer  and  the  more  satis- 
fying do  the  comforts  become.  The  nests  over 
which  the  wing  of  God  droops,  which  in  the  bright 
summer  days  of   pr(jsperous   strength   lay   hidden 


BEAUTIFUL    OLD  AGE.  307 

anion o;  the  leaves,  stand  out  uncovered  in  the  days 
of  decay  and  feebleness  when  winter  has  stripped 
the  branches  bare.  And  for  such  a  life  death  has 
no  terrors.  The  tokens  of  its  approach  are  but 
"  the  land-birds  lighting  on  the  shrouds,  telling  the 
weary  mariner  that  he  is  nearing  the  haven."  The 
end  is  but  the  touching;  of  the  weatherbeaten  keel 
on  the  shore  of  glory. 


XXXII. 

UNCONSCIOUS  FAREWELLS. 

"I  liave  often  said  *  Good-bye'  lightly,  with  plans  for  the  fii 
lure,  to  people  whom  I  have  next  seen  or  heard  of  as  dead." 

Private  Letter. 

Tj^YERY  hour  there  are  partings,  thought  to  be 
-^^^  only  for  a  little  season,  which  prove  to  be  for 
ever.  One  morning  a  young  man  bade  his  wife 
and  child  good-bye  and  went  out  to  his  work. 
There  was  an  accident  on  the  street,  and  before  mid- 
day his  lifeless  body  was  borne  back  to  his  home. 
It  was  a  terrible  shock,  but  there  was  one  sweet 
comfort  that  came  with  wondrous  power  to  the 
crushed  heart  of  the  young  wife.  The  last  ho  • 
they  had  spent  together  had  been  one  of  peculiar 
tenderness.  Not  a  word  had  been  spoken  by  either 
that  she  could  wish  had  not  been  spoken.  She  had 
not  dreamed  at  the  time  that  it  would  be  their  last 
conversation,  and  yet  there  was  nothing  in  it  that 
left  one  painful  recollection   now  that  she  should 

308 


UNCO^'^SCIOUS  FABE WELLS.  309 

meet  her  husband  no  more.  Throuo;h  all  these 
years  of  loneliness  and  widowhood  the  memory  of 
that  last  parting  has  been  an  abiding  joy  in  her  life, 
like  a  fragrant  perfume  or  a  bright  lamp  of  holy 
peace. 

Life  is  very  critical.  Any  word  may  be  our  last. 
Any  farewell,  even  amid  glee  and  merriment,  may 
be  for  ever.  If  this  truth  were  but  burned  into 
our  consciousness,  if  it  ruled  as  a  deep  conviction 
and  real  power  in  our  lives,  would  it  not  give  a  new 
meaning  to  all  our  human  relationships?  Would 
it  not  make  us  far  more  tender  than  we  sometime? 
are  ?  Would  it  not  oftentimes  put  a  rein  upon  our 
rash  and  impetuous  speech  ?  Would  we  carry  in 
our  hearts  the  miserable  suspicions  and  jealous- 
ies that  now  so  often  embitter  the  fountains  of. 
our  loves?  Would  we  be  so  impatient  of  tliG 
faults  of  others?  Would  we  allow  trivial  misun- 
derstandings to  build  up  strong  walls  between  us 
and  those  whom  we  ought  to  hold  veiy  close  to  us  ? 
Would  we  keep  alive  petty  quarrels  year  after  year 
which  a  manly  word  any  day  would  compose? 
Would  we  pass  neighbors  or  old  friends  on  the 
street  without  recosrnition  because  of  some  real  or 
fancied  slight,  some  wounding  of  pride  or  some  sup- 
posed injury?     Or  would   we  be  so  chary  of  our 


<> 


10  WEEK-DAY  nELWION. 


kind  words,  our  coniiueiulations,  our  .symi)atliy,  our 
words  of  comfort,  when  weary  hearts  all  about  us 
are  breaking  for  just  sueh  expressions  of  interest  or 
appreciation  or  helpfulness  as  we  have  it  in  our 
power  to  give? 

We  all  know  how  kindly  it  makes  us  feel  toward 
any  one  to  sit  beside  his  death-bed.  AVe  are  spend- 
inir  our  last  hour  with  him.  We  w^ould  not  utter 
a  harsh  word  or  cherish  a  single  grudge  against 
him  for  the  world.  There  will  never  be  an  oppor- 
tunity to  recall  any  word  spoken  now,  or  to  obliter- 
ate any  painful  impression  made.  We  can  never 
again  give  joy  to  this  heart  that  is  so  soon  to  stop 
its  beatino-s.  What  a  softenino;  influence  this 
thouixht  has  !  All  our  coldness  melts  down  before 
the  eyes  that  have  death's  far-away  look  in  them. 
All  the  long-frozen  kindly  sentiment  in  our  hearts 
toward  our  friend  is  thawed  out  as  we  hold  our  last 
intercourse  with  him.  ^ 

Then  we  all  know,  too,  how  slumbering  love 
awakes  and  cold  spirits  warm  and  all  the  chill  of 
selfishness  dissolves  beside  the  coffin  of  one  who  is 
dead.  Everv  one  feels  kindlv  then.  Not  a  trace 
of  grudging  or  bitterness  lingers  in  any  heart. 
Sliirhts  and  wrono-s  are  fori>:iven  and  for2:otten. 
I(;v   winter  changes  to  mellow  summer.      Loving 


UNCONSCIOUS  FAREWELLS  311 

words  of  gratitude  or  appreciation  flow  from  every 
tongue.  Praise  and  commendation  never  spoken 
when  the  weary  spirit  needed  them  so  much  find 
free  expression  when  the  heavy  ear  can  hear  them 
no  more.  Men  feel  themselves  awed  in  the  pres- 
ence of  eternity,  and  heartily  ashamed  of  their 
wretched  spites  and  petty  animosities  and  cold, 
mechanical  friendship. 

Now,  how  it  would  bless  and  beautify  our  lives 
if  we  could  carry  that  same  thouglitful,  grateful, 
patient,  forgiving,  loving  spirit  into  our  every-day 
intercourse  with  each  other;  if  we  could  treat  men 
with  the  same  gentle  consideration,  with  the  same 
frank,  manly  sincerity,  as  when  we  sit  by  their 
death-bed;  if  we  could  bring  the  post-mortem  ap- 
preciation, gratitude,  charity  and  unselfish  kind- 
liness back  into  the  vexed  and  overburdened  vears 
of  actual,  toilsome  life! 

It  would  be  impossible  to  live  otherwise  if  we 
but  realized  that  anv  hour's  intercourse  with  an- 
other  might  indeed  be  the  last.  If  a  man  truly 
felt  that  he  might  be  spending  his  last  day  with 
his  family,  taking  his  last  meal  with  them,  enjoy- 
ing the  last  evening  with  them,  would  not  his 
heart  be  cleansed  of  all  harshness,  bitterness  and 
selfishness?       Would    not     his    feelings,    his    very 


312  WEEK-DAY  RELIGION. 

tones,  be  cliarircd  \\\{\\  almost  a  divine  tenderness? 
If  a  mother  felt  that  to-day  miglit  be  the  last  that 
she  would  have  her  child  with  her,  would  she  be 
so  imj)atient  of  its  endless  questions,  so  easily 
annoyed  by  its  restless  activities,  so  fretted  and 
vexed  by  its  faults  and  thoughtless  ways? 

AVould  we  be  so  exacting,  so  calculating,  so  cold 
and  formal,  so  undemonstrative,  so  selfish,  in  our 
intercourse  with  our  friends,  if  we  truly  felt  that 
to-day's  sunset  might  be  the  last  we  should  be- 
hold or  that  we  should  never  meet  our  friends 
airain?  Would  not  the  realization  of  this  ev^er- 
imminent  possibility  act  as  a  mighty  restraint  on 
all  that  is  harsh  ox.  unloving  in  us,  and  as  a 
powerful  inspiration  to  bring  out  all  that  is  kind- 
ly and  tender  ?  The  poet's  words  are  well  worth 
heeding : 

"If  thou  dost  bid  thy  friend  farewell, 

But  for  one  night  though  that  farewell  may  be, 
w.         Press  thou  his  hand  in  thine. 
^     How  canst  thou  tell  how  far  from  thee 

Fate  or  caprice  may  lead  his  steps  ere  that  to-morrow  comes? 

Men  have  been  known  liglitly  to  turn  the  corner  of  a  street, 

And  days  have  grown  to  months, 

And  months  to  lagging  years,  ere  they 

Have  looked  in  loving  eyes  again.  .  .  . 

Yea,  find  thou  always  time  to  say  some  earnest  word 

Between  the  idle  talk,  lest  with  thee  henceforth, 

Kight  and  day,  regret  should  walk." 


UNCONSCIOUS  FAREWELLS.  313 

With  many  a  lonely  heart  regret  does  indeed 
^\alk  night  and  day  because  of  the  memory  of 
unkind  words  spoken  which  can  never  be  un- 
spoken, since  the  ears  that  heard  them  are  deaf 
to  every  sound  of  earth.  Friends  have  separated 
with  sharp  Avords  or  in  momentary  estrangement 
through  some  trivial  diiference,  and  have  never 
met  again.  Death  has  come  suddenly  to  one  of 
them  or  life  has  set  their  feet  in  paths  divergent 
from  that  moment.  Many  a  bitter  and  unavail- 
ing tear — bitter  because  unavailing — is  shed  over 
the  grave  of  a  departed  one  by  one  Avho  would 
give  worlds  for  a  single  moment  in  which  to  beg 
forgiveness  or  seek  to  make  reparation. 

So  uncertain  is  life  and  so  manifold  are  the 
vicissitudes  of  human  experience  that  any  leave- 
taking  may  be  for  ever.  We  are  never  sure  of 
an  opportunity  to  unsay  the  angry  word  or  draw 
out  the  thorn  we  left  rankling  in  another's  heart. 
The  kindness  which  we  felt  prompted  to  do  to- 
day, but  neglected  or  deferred,  we  may  never  be 
able  to  perform.  The  only  way,  therefore,  to  save 
ourselves  from  unavailing  sorrow  and  regret  is  to 
let  love  always  rule  in  our  hearts  and  control  our 
speech.  If  we  should  in  a  thoughtless  moment 
speak  unadvisedly,  giving  pain   to  another  heart, 


3 1  i  WEEK- 1) A  Y  RELIGION. 

lot  rcj)arati()ii  be  made  upon  the  spot.  The  sun 
should  never  go  down  upon  our  wrath.  We 
should  never  leave  anything  over-night  that  we 
-would  not  be  willing  to  leave  finally  and  for  ever 
just  in  that  shape,  and  which  we  would  blush  to 
meet  again  in  the  great  di.selosure. 

Life's  actions  do  not  appear  to  us  in  the  same 
colors  when  viewed  in  the  noontide  glare  and  in 
the  evening's  twiliLL-ht.  Little  thinii-s  in  our  treat- 
ment  of  others,  which  at  the  time,  under  the  cross- 
lights  of  emulation  and  rivalry  or  in  the  excitement 
of  business  and  social  life,  do  not  seem  wrong,  when 
seen  from  the  shadows  of  final  separation  or  great 
grief,  fill  us  with  shame  and  regret.  This  after- 
view  is  by  far  the  truest.  After-thoughts  are  the 
wiser  thoughts.  We  get  the  most  faithful  repre- 
sentation of  life  in  retrospect.  The  things  we 
regret  in  such  an  hour  are  things  we  ought  not  to 
have  done.  The  things  we  wish  then  we  had  done 
are  thinfrs  we  ouo-ht  to  have  done.  There  could  be 
no  better  test  of  life's  actions  than  the  question, 
*^  How  will  this  appear  when  I  look  back  upon 
it  from  the  end?  Will  it  give  me  pleasure  or 
painr 

AVe  all  want  to  have  beautiful  endings  to  our 
lives.     We  want    to  leave  sweet  memories  behind 


UNCONSCIOUS  FAREWELLS.  315 

ill  the  hearts  of  those  who  know  and  love  us. 
We  want  our  names  to  be  fragrant  in  the  homes 
on  whose  thresholds  our  footfalls  are  wont  to  be 
heard.  We  want  the  memory  of  our  last  parting 
with  our  friends  to  live  as  a  tender  joy  with  them 
as  the  days  pass  away.  We  want,  if  we  should 
stand  by  a  friend's  coffin  to-morrow,  to  have  the 
consciousnass  that  we  have  done  nothing  to  embit- 
ter his  life,  to  add  to  his  burdens  or  to  tarnish  his 
soul,  and  that  we  have  left  nothing  undone  which 
it  lay  in  our  power  to  do  to  help  him  or  to  min- 
ister to  him  com.fort  or  cheer.  We  can  make  sure 
of  this  only  by  so  living  always  that  any  day 
would  make  a  tender  and  beautiful  last  day ;  that 
any  hand-grasp  would  be  a  fitting  farewell ;  that 
any  hour's  intercourse  with  friend  or  neighboi 
would  leave  a  fragrant  memory;  and  that  no 
treatment  of  another  would  leave  a  regret  or  cause 
a  pang  if  death  or  space  should  divide  us  for 
ever. 

For   after   any   heart-throb,   any    sentence,   any 
good-bye,  God  may  write 

Finis. 


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